The Silence of the Deep
by Unknown Shore
Summary: The 'main gang' must work to stop a ruthless pirate from both sides of the Atlantic. UPDATE The wheels turn.
1. Look Sir, Pirates!

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(**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Pirates of the Caribbean _or any of the characters, plots, settings, etc. I don't even claim them as muses. They just sort of sprang out from under the bed and... yeah. Anywhoo. None of it's mine. I am only playing in zee universe, kay? No suing for mass quantities of money, please. Starving college student!) 

In hindsight, it had all started out innocently enough. 

Elizabeth Swann leaned against the rail of His Majesty's new ship _ Relentless_ and breathed in the wind. She stood at the prow, as was her habit, and listened to the sounds of the sailors and officers manning the ship behind her. Grasping one of the lines that ran back from the bowsprit, she could almost be flying - with no ship, no people, and no responsibilities - just a star sailing over the ocean, with no promises to anyone but herself. 

"Must you stand so close to the front, dear? I fear you'll go over."

Her father loomed beside her, and she turned to smile at him. "Father, I have no intentions of falling overboard. The taste of seawater lost its appeal after they made me walk the plank."

He shuddered, no doubt entertaining images of his precious daughter being hounded by Barbossa's cheerful band of demons. Her nightmares had ended within weeks of the entire debacle, but her father's continued even three months later. "Must we speak of that? Your young blacksmith has been hovering about the wheel, trying to convince the Commodore to let him have a turn at it. Perhaps if you distracted him..."

"Will likes to steer," she said bluntly. "Norrington had best let him do it if he wants any peace throughout this trial."

"You look more like your mother each day." Governor Swann's voice had grown wistful, and Elizabeth cringed inwardly in anticipation of another profound remark dredged up from her father's memory. "And act more like a rogue." 

_Well, that wasn't so bad. _"I can't help it, father. I was, after all, held hostage by _dreadful _pirates, and I am simply so young and impressionable." She batted her eyes at him.

He patted her head. "I suppose I have Sparrow to thank for that. But please, _do _get Will away from Norrington, or I fear your blacksmith will receive his own taste of walking the plank - in the form of... what is it the Commodore likes to say?"

"A sudden drop and short stop? Or is it the other way around?" Elizabeth turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth. "_WILL! JOIN ME!_"She winked at her father as he winced. "No, Papa, you can't blame that one on Sparrow." 

Will came along presently, his warm dark eyes glittering in the sunshine. "I do believe Norrington wishes he'd hanged _me_ rather than that pirate last month," he said, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Governor Swann murmured a farewell and excused himself, leaving the pair to themselves on the prow. "Your father still isn't terribly pleased about all this, is he?"

"He must think there's _some _hope for you, else he would have let you pester Norrington until you swung from the yardarm." The Governor Swann had not been pleased with his daughter's choice of suitor; Will was, after all, merely a blacksmith - albeit the finest in Port Royal. Will had been ready to marry her the instant Jack Sparrow had leaped (fell seemed such a cruel word - particularly when he had been_ preparing_ to leap) from the fort wall and to freedom, but Swann had requested a courting period first. _To see how you two suit one another_, he'd said. Elizabeth supposed that was all well and good; Will remained unbearably shy around her - that one kiss on her cheek must have taken all his courage. During her younger years, they had been playmates, always cavorting about the blacksmith's shop - but those days had ended when she turned sixteen. Papa had reined her in, required her to be ladylike and _adult_. Her dear William Turner had become a happy memory rather than a friend.

Swann gave every indication of extending the olive branch, though. After all, he'd invited Will along on the sea trials of the _Relentless_, so clearly he was _trying _to get to know his future son-in-law. Then again... Corwin Norrington had been invited along as well. 

But that might have been because he was the Commodore, and this _was _a ship in his charge. Not inviting him might have been like inciting a mutiny. 

Or something like that. 

Will nudged her. "You look thoughtful."

"I'm wondering if Papa brought you aboard so Commodore Norrington could dispose of you."

"You certainly have a way with words." 

"Commodore!" Both turned around at the sailor's shout. "Ship to port!" 

Elizabeth immediately swung her head to the left, spotted the thickly-made three-master that skimmed about over the water under full sail. "That doesn't look like one of the Navy's ships..." 

"Look, sir - pirates!" Will doubtlessly found himself quite funny for the three seconds that followed his quip. 

"_BLACK FLAG! BLACK FLAG!_"

No sooner had the words been screeched from the lookout when the ship turned toward them - and yes, there was the black flag sailing from the mizzenmast. Will reached for her hand and began pulling her back to the main deck, to relative safety behind the ship's big guns. Elizabeth, however, lingered a moment longer - long enough to allow a scowl to creep across her face. "Oh, not _again_."

Commodore Corwin Norrington could hardly believe his good luck. Here he was, testing out the Royal Navy's newest pirate-hunter, and here, right in her scope, came a pirate!

Sometimes, life could be just a bit too perfect.

Now if only Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann had stayed home...

"Can you mark her, sir?" His lieutenant had ordered the gun crews to attention, but as yet no action had been taken.

Corwin snapped his spyglass shut upon seeing the dagger marked on the flag. "A dagger, which would that be?"

"Gerrarrd," the bosun whispered. "_Wickedry_."

That gave him pause. _Wickedry _had been a fear even when the _Black Pearl _had sailed under her curse; in the absence of the famed walking skeletons, she had improved her reputation even further. _Relentless, _ though, had been designed with catching the likes of _Wickedry _and her fast-sailing pirate kin, and Corwin dearly wanted to see how his new ship would perform. "Then _Wickedry _shall fire her last today, shan't she? Bring us to her, and prepare to open fire!"

The crew sent up rousing cheers, and Corwin held back a satisfied smile as he heard Governor Swann attempting to cajole his daughter into retiring. Of course the girl would stay put; she had a taste for adventure, unladylike as it was - and the hunting of pirates was a grand adventure indeed.

"Oh, let her stay, Governor," he said. Elizabeth sent him a startled look. "So long as she remains in the shelter of the aft deck, this should be over soon enough." _And if a stray cannon damages poor Mr. Turner, well, life's unfair, isn't it? _Corwin had never been overly-fond of the young blacksmith, but who could blame him if his initial distrust turned to outright dislike after the entire pirate debacle? Elizabeth had vowed to wed _him, _damnall, not some eager-faced pup who gawked at everything in sight. He signaled to his crew. "Ready, men?"

"Are you quite sure it will be safe?" Governor Swann asked, worrying his handkerchief. Corwin bobbed his head.

"This will be entirely too easy, Governor. Now, if you please, we have a pirate to kill." 

From across the gulf between the two ships, the first shots were exchanged. They fell short and went long as the two vessels gauged the distance and their gun crews made adjustments. _Wickedry _had been designed with long venturing in mind and had come off a successful hunt; her crew was in this for the blood. _Relentless _charged hard in the manner that only a new and fresh ship could, her larger cannon pounding away.

It would have been an evenly-matched fight at best, a thorough drubbing at worst. _Wickedry _might have been a feared vessel in the Caribbean, but it would take more than just _Wickedry _to knock aside the mighty _ Relentless. _

That is, if _Relentless'_s rudder hadn't taken a most-unfortunate hit at an inopportune moment.

Everyone aboard _Relentless _felt the ship jerk as the shot connected. Elizabeth half-expected to see her father faint clean away the moment it happened, but Governor Swann somehow clung to consciousness by leaning back against the entry to the captain's quarters. She and Will, of course, were having the time of their lives goggling at the _Wickedry _as she closed ground. 

"Damage?" Norrington called from the forward guns. 

"She's not responding to helm, sir!" 

The note of panic in the sailor's voice was enough to draw further attention. Elizabeth stepped back from the rail and noticed for the first time how large _ Wickedry _looked. Norrington raced up to the helm, and she heard the shouts and bellows that followed him - _rudder, sir! They took it clean off! _

"The rudder is gone?" Will reached for the cutlass he had stowed at his hip. "Elizabeth, perhaps you had best--"

"Help them fix it! I agree." She took the stairs to the aft deck two at a time before Will could correct her, promptly poking her head over the stern. _ Stupid exaggerating sailors. _The rudder itself was still attached to the ship, but the shot had damaged the mechanism. Norrington scowled.

"Damned lucky hit is what it is..." He began bellowing a series of thoroughly-incomprehensible orders to the crew, and those that weren't manning the guns were sent aloft to work with the canvas. "Brute strength is what they want, brute strength is what they'll receive." 

_Wickedry _had taken the first bite. _Relentless_, moving sluggishly at best, took aim once more with her port guns. 

One shot ripped through _Wickedry_'s canvas. 

The others missed.

_Wickedry _loomed closer. 

"Lieutenant," Corwin murmured, so as not to disturb the cowering governor, "prepare to repel boarders." 

"Aye, Commodore." 

"Miss Swann, perhaps you should step inside - and calm your father down." He sent a meaningful look towards the governor, who had placed a hand over his heart and looked quite close to hyperventilating. Elizabeth might handle herself admirably on the battlefield, but the decks of a vessel in combat were still no place for a woman. 

"I concur, Commodore." To his great surprise, Elizabeth gathered her father up and guided him into the captain's quarters. He proceeded to pat himself on the back for his wonderful diplomatic skills when Elizabeth stepped _back _ outside and shut the door behind her. The look she gave him forbade further discussion. "My father is comfortable."

_You are an infuriating woman! _He might have said such a thing aloud, if they had been alone. She probably would have slapped him for it, and his cheek tingled at the thought. 

"Sails to starboard, sir!" 

"Good Lord, not _another _one!" Corwin snatched up his spyglass and squinted over the water. Perhaps if _Dauntless _had come out to make sure all was well... but no ensign flew from the trim three-master. Indeed, no flag flew at all. "She's got... a mark on one of her sails... a black circle..." 

Of course, Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann could not possibly let that one go. As one, they sprinted to the starboard rail of the ship, mindless of the cannonballs landing in the water all around them. "The _Black Pearl_!" 


	2. Whatthe?

It's one thing when help comes from bizarre and unexpected places.

It's quite another when said help is actually a pirate that you have sworn to bring to justice (but preferably justice can be bypassed and aforementioned pirate will be sent straight to the noose), and oh, by the way, he also had a hand in The Turning Away of Elizabeth Swann.

No, Corwin Norrington was _not _entirely pleased when he discovered that _Relentless _was (presumably) about to be saved by his blood enemy.

Actually, not pleased was probably something of an understatement. He surmised that he had turned six shades of red before Elizabeth had hesitantly pulled him away from the rail. "Commodore, the next shot will take your head off."

"So kind of you to consider that, Miss Swann." _A shame it wouldn't take off yours._

"We'll be fine now," Will said. "The _Black Pearl _will drive them off, and--"

"She's raisin' a flag, sir."

Corwin turned his head. "What is it?"

"The... uh... skull and crossbones, sir."

Will craned his neck around to stare at the approaching vessel. "_Whatthe_?" 

The deck of _Relentless _ became very, very quiet - even _Wickedry _had paused in her firing to size up the new arrival. 

The Commodore turned and stared at Elizabeth and Will. "The _Black Pearl _will drive them off, will she? Isn't your good friend Jack Sparrow known to... switch sides?"

"He doesn't know it's us," Will said confidently. "We need to tell him."

"Feel free." 

_Telling him _entailed Will climbing up the aft deck and waving his hands about. "JACK! It's ME! _WILLIAM TURNER!_"

Norrington caught her eye. "Are you _certain _you wish to marry him?"

Elizabeth knew one way to shut him up. "Captain Sparrow said the same thing." Although Captain Sparrow's variation had included deep discussion of eunuchs and their general uselessness. 

"_CAPTAIN SPARROW, DON'T ATTACK US!_" __

"Belay your _voice_," the mate growled. Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. 

"They haven't opened fire yet, at least."

"An astute observation, one that--" Commodore Norrington's eyes widened. "The _Wickedry! _Continue firing!" 

Elizabeth sighed and wondered if perhaps joining her father was not in order. Certainly his nervous breakdowns were far more interesting than watching Norrington fumble about and forget about the _other _ship they had to deal with. Sparrow did so love looking through his spyglass; he'd spot Will jumping about like a raving loon and come to their defense, no doubt. He _did _owe them his life. Several times over.

_You owe me, pirate, _she thought with a slightly wicked smile. She had thought about saying that to him on the beach, all those months ago, but she had never quite been able to bring up her courage... mostly because he might take what he _owed _her quite seriously, and the idea of being plundered on a beach... well... no, it was best if she did not revisit certain memories. 

She had become so lost in her own thoughts that she jumped when Will yanked her into the captain's cabin. She could just make out the boarding party from her peripheral vision, and the looming presence of _Wickedry _right beyond. She had no further say in the matter as Will slammed the door on her opened mouth, and her father peeked out from behind his wig. "Is it terribly bad out, dear?"

The sound of small-arms rang out. "We're all going to die, Father. Best to make your peace." _Oh, and your Commodore really does need to remember when there's more than one ship in the vicinity... ignoring the boat with the boarding parties is simply not a smart thing to do. _

He stared at her. "It's difficult to tell when you're joking, Elizabeth. I heard calls of another ship..." 

"There is another ship." She decided not to tell him that _Black Pearl _had turned on them yet again, settling for riffling through the captain's personal arms. A pistol here, a cutlass there... ah, a _sword. _A pity she didn't know how to use it. Besides sticking people the pointy end. Jack Sparrow had said something along those lines once. 

Between William Turner's exuberant fighting and attempted signaling and the general disarray of his once-pristine deck, Corwin developed a rather large headache.

"Repel boarders! Repel boarders!"

"Bringing guns to bear!"

"Tie down that sail!"

"Fix the rudder!"

"Arrrr, ye be facin' _true _ pirates now, laddie!"

"Urrrrrrk!"

"_CAPTAIN SPARROW!_"

Not for the first time, Corwin thought about shooting young Will himself, just to see if the boy would shut up. 

And then, a miraculous thing happened. The _Black Pearl _made a motion beyond the raising of her flag; she made a motion that suggested she did indeed know of their presence. 

She opened fire on them.

Corwin groaned. It was going to be a long day.

The smashing of the windows alerted Elizabeth to the fact that the crew had _not, _in fact, repelled the boarders.

"They always go after the windows first," her father mumbled. He picked up a gold-plated candlestick in preparation for whatever might come at him.

Elizabeth tucked her pistol into her bodice and checked the grips on both the sword and cutlass. She might not know how to use them, but by the good Lord in heaven, she'd go down cutting things. She was primed and ready when the first of _Wickedry'_s men came smashing through the door, and she saw the surprised glint in his eye when she opened up wounds on his throat and face. He dropped, and his companion fell next. 

Her father's muted exclamations fell on deaf ears. Elizabeth allowed herself one small, almost sweet smirk before stepping over the bleeding bodies and into the chaotic mess that reigned out on deck. _Surprise them_, a man had once said to her. _ They aren't expectin' one so bonny to be packin' sharp things, if you get me._

"Thanks, Captain," she murmured as her prayer before battle.

Battle is a messy affair. People are shot. People are cut. People bleed. Men fell on the decks of _Relentless_, some moving - some not. Their wounds varied from slices to missing limbs, and it seemed that both sides suffered their fair share of casualties. The pirates of _Wickedry _kept coming, though; the big ship had stopped firing as she drew closer - _she wants the ship! _Norrington bellowed to his men.

"This ship'll sink before pirates get their hands upon her!"

"AYE!" One brave sailor led a charge that ended in gunfire and screams. 

Another ship still fired, though. Elizabeth caught herself looking over the ocean again, to where _Black Pearl _steadily pursued them. _Shooting? _She leaped upwards when her father grabbed her shoulder. "Is that - _Black Pearl_?"

"Aye," she said.

"Are they... are they _shooting _at us?!"

"It appears to be so, Papa." 

If anything, her father looked more insulted than distraught. "_Whatthe?! _I let that lad go and _this _is how he repays me? I'll have his hide stripped and tanned--"

"Wot's this! A fancy gent!" The pirate's missing teeth had been replaced with stones, and Elizabeth and her father regarded him in singular horror for a few seconds. "Move along, ye filthy old cot, lest I--"

Her father smashed his candlestick down on the pirate's head. "You watch your tone, young man!"

Elizabeth nudged him with her elbow, being that both her hands were still caught up with her blades. "And you wondered where I got my fighting spirit from."

Will fought off two pirates before realizing that Governor Swann had come back out on deck. _Oh, Norrington's not going to be pleased about this. _He wiped the sweat from his hand off on his trousers before hefting the blade again, noting that the boarding party had come to a lull. By the shouts he heard from _Wickedry _ and her crew, they were officially confused as to what _Black Pearl_'s purpose was.

_Save us, Jack, come through for us, we can't do it alone. _ The thought died as he saw Elizabeth standing there with a sword in her right hand and a cutlass in her left, and a pistol tucked into the front of her dress. Damn if a few red splatters weren't to be found on her, either... _God, what a magnificent woman you have given me... even if she does get herself into trouble... more than she ought... quite often, actually..._

He rejoined Governor Swann and Elizabeth as _Black Pearl _rounded them, providing the _Relentless _a surprisingly large berth, given what they intended to do. He squinted and thought he could make out the three-point hat that Jack had been so fond of wearing, but he had to duck another mild volley from the pirate ship before he could check for sure. The balls tore through the sails, but otherwise did little damage. Norrington cursed loudly. "_They _want her, too."

"'Course they do," Will said. "You said yourself she's bloody fast. Although 'tis a pity she can't... turn." He smiled sweetly at the Commodore. 

"Commodore, the boarders, they're..."

The dumbfounded bosun had a nasty cut over his eye. "_Leaving_?"

Leave they did, leaping back aboard _Wickedry _without their wounded or dead. By the set of her sails, she fully intended to engage _Black Pearl. _Governor Swann wiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve, large candlestick glinting unnaturally in the sunlight. "Are they... _fighting _over who gets to plunder us?"

"I like the word plunder," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. Will and her father both stared at her for a moment. Governor Swann wisely decided he hadn't heard the comment and found something far more interesting by Norrington. 

"If they can fix the rudder, we might yet escape," Will said, eyeing the sword. She held it clumsily, more like a club than a blade. "Poor ship, being christened with blood."

She gave him a sly little smile he'd seen somewhere before. "I don't know, I thought it was rather... _ exciting_." She might well have said _Will, I'd like to partake in bedding tonight _for all the scandalous connotation she had attached to it. Clearly she fancied a reaction out of him. 

"I hate it," he said. "It's senseless bloodshed."

"Oh, I don't like the blood... but... a good fight never hurt anyone, right?"

"You're... very strange, Elizabeth." _No, don't say strange! Tell her how wonderful and beautiful and glowy-eyed she is right now, and then take her to the back cabin and..._

No. Bad William. No biscuit.

"We've patched 'er best we can, Commodore," the bosun called. 

"Come about. We're getting out of here."

_Relentless _ did her best to swing around and sneak away from the confrontation, and had it been any other place, with any other _ships_, it might well have worked. Will, unfortunately, could quite vividly imagine Jack Sparrow squinting over the horizon, black eyebrows arching, demanding _are they tryin' to get away from us, y'think? _Sure enough, _Black Pearl_'s head turned towards them first. _There'll be no escapin' _Black Pearl_, savvy? _

Not to be left out, _ Wickedry _soon followed.

Damn, damn, damn.

The _Wickedry_'s men tried their hands at boarding again, and this time, the harried crew of _Relentless _had little response.

Captain Jack Sparrow watched the action from the aft deck of _Black Pearl, _hands steady on the wheel. Normally, he'd have set upon Gerrarrd's ship without question - after all, these _were_ his waters - but if _Wickedry _made one poorly-timed move, or set off one badly-aimed shot, everything would be over for everyone. Gerrarrd would probably slaughter the ship's crew and pack off what he could, but that didn't mean Jack had to make it easy for him. He nudged_ Black Pearl_ about, humming a tuneless song under his breath.

He felt rather bad for _ Relentless; _after all, the little ship was neatly sandwiched between two rather ill-reputed vessels. Her poor captain was probably shitting himself below, wondering why the good heavens had chosen _him _for this duty.

"They've a woman aboard, sir." Duncan reported. Jack's spyglass was instantly in his hand, sweeping the decks of Gerrarrd's prey. 

"Is she pretty?"

"Hard to say, sir--"

"If she's pretty, we might bring her aboard. If not..." He would have preferred to take the cargo and run, but Gerrarrd aboard the other ship was not known to be so magnanimous. Jack had toyed briefly with the idea of bringing the _Relentless _crew aboard all at once, but Gerrarrd probably wouldn't permit that, either. As it was, _Black Pearl _probably wouldn't get much of a cut of the loot unless he dedicated the ship to a battle. Dammit, if only one of the ships would _move... _

"--she's fightin', sir, and pretty damned hard."

"Excellent. I like a fighting woman." He finally caught sight of the blue-clad figure slicing away at men, and his brain skipped over where he could have possibly seen her. The rich chestnut mane, the lovely figure, that determined stance...

_...You know why I burned the rum, Captain Sparrow._

Elizabeth bloody _Swann_. What the devil was she doing on _Relentless _- carrying a _sword? _Unless someone had taught her how to properly use one since he'd last seen her, she'd be as useless as a monkey with an abacus. His spyglass swept the decks again, and lo and behold, her sweet little eunuch Turner clapped swords with one of _Wickedry_'s.Further down the deck, he could pick out that bloody Norrington, and even the Governor of Port Royal himself, clutching a candlestick. 

A candlestick? 

"Bloody hell," he said.

"Captain?"

He lowered the spyglass. "I seem to have made my one mistake per year, Duncan. Gerrarrd has decided to take a ship containing certain individuals to whom I owe a debt. Would you be so kind as to tell the crew that _Wickedry _is the enemy?" 

Duncan, being a good little minion, did not question his orders. Jack brought _Black Pearl _in closer to _Relentless_, hoping alternately that the wind would stay kind and the ship would not decide that she didn't feel like listening to him. 

Duncan leaped down to the main deck and began spreading the gospel via his great lungs. A ragged cheer went up from the crew - _so they don't like him, either? _Jack saw Elizabeth briefly turn around, and he waved, waggling his fingers. He fancied she stared at him slack-jawed for a moment before turning back to her chosen victim.

Ah, well. At least now there was only _one _enemy to fight.

Swann could not quite discern just where it all went wrong. 

The tide seemed to have turned for a moment; a great rallying cry went up from _Black Pearl_'s crew as one of her lads bellowed that _Relentless _was a friend, and they had stormed aboard. As one, the crews of _Relentless _and _Black Pearl _had set upon _Wickedry_'s boarders. None of the ships fired - the range was too close, their own ship could be too easily damaged - but the crews, the _crews..._

He heard Elizabeth shouting something obscene. Will Turner shouted something similarly obscene. The entire mess ran together for far longer than he could track, and he felt his candlestick drop to the deck as the muggy sun beat down. Screams... no... orders? Something... something...

He awoke to water being splashed on him.

"Governor, Governor, they've taken them!" 

"What took who? I don't care. Give it back." 

"Heatstroke, most likely," one of the sailors said. When he opened his eyes, Norrington crouched in front of him. "Governor, I beseech you, _wake up_." 

"What... we're alive... we won?" He straightened, smiling. 

"Nearly, sir, but not without considerable damage to ourselves. _Wickedry _is a fine foe." Norrington hesitated. "Governor, they took the young blacksmith. Your daughter tried to free him..."

"Elizabeth...!" Her shouted curses returned to him. "Where? Where has she gone? Is she--"

"I don't know, sir. None of us do. _Wickedry _took them both." 


	3. Yo Ho Freakin' Ho

_(Have never attempted to write a char quite like Jack Sparrow before. Hoping I don't muck him up. Yes, Corwin is slightly... immature in this chapter. The poor man is terribly stressed.) _

Somewhere between the wailing and the berating, Jack began to remember why he'd left Port Royal in the first place. True, he'd been saving his own hide - keeping his neck at its _proper _length, thank ye very much - but he could only stand so much of the well-meaning but quite-disturbing Governor Swann before he started thinking not-nice thoughts, such as throwing himself over the side of the ship and swimming off to safety and letting the good Governor sit there and think about what he did.

Although when he thought about it, he probably shouldn't have invited the good Governor Swann and his pet Commodore aboard _Black Pearl _in the first place. _Relentless _ may have been too messy to hold any kind of war council, but inviting men who upheld the law onto a pirate ship was simply asking for trouble. Jack made a mental note to never do such a thing again. 

"...and my beloved Elizabeth and that poor boy are in the hands of that horrible man, and it's _your fault!_"

The Governor stopped for air and fell silent. Was he done? Jack waited, drumming his fingers together in anticipation of a slap. None came, and he nodded. "I suppose I deserved that. My apologies, Sir Governor, we didn't know it was you. No one expected the new ship to be done for--" 

"Obviously, she was finished ahead of schedule." 

"Hang him," the Commodore growled.

Jack gaped at him, affronted. "You can't hang me. I'm on my own ship_! _I should hang_ you_ for suggesting such a thing." 

"You can't hang me. I'm the Commodore."

"And I'm the Captain, you're on _my _ship, and I can hang who I want, savvy?" Sometimes people needed to be reminded of their place. 

"Stop the yelling," the Governor said weakly. "Mr. Sparrow--"

"_Captain _Sparrow," he corrected, reaching for a banana. He had ordered Gibbs to place a bowl of them conveniently by the mainmast, where he now stood. He began peeling it as the Governor sighed. 

"_Captain _Sparrow... what do you know of Gerrarrd?"

Jack took a bite out of the banana and chewed. "He's not very nice," he said with his mouth full. He tilted his head back to admire the running lines flapping in the wind. "He's extremely not very nice. There's been talk of alliances between some of the smaller ships to put a stop to him, but no one can cease arguing long enough to come up with a plan. Dreadfully unfortunate, don't you think?" 

The Commodore did not like this. "Then why the _devil didn't you fight him from the start?!_"

Jack spread his hands. "Because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! I... sail to my own wind."

"Hang him," the Commodore said. "Now! I want to see him dangling."

"I thought we were past this," Jack said. "Regardless, you were in such close quarters with _Wickedry _for much of the time - if I had fired upon her, I might have taken you down as well." 

"Death may be preferable to what they'll certainly do to Elizabeth - hang him!" the Commodore said once again. 

"I protest that whole-heartedly. You should look into anger management, Commodore, it might do you some good... may I also recommend expanding your vocabulary?" Jack thought about clapping a hand on the Governor's shoulder, saw the livid look on the man's face, and withdrew his fingers. "I am sorry for the loss of your--"

"What will they do to her?"

"To Elizabeth?"

"To _Miss Swann!_"

"Ah, yes, must be proper with you lawmaking types... oh, dear, did I say that out loud?" Jack flailed his hands about. "I daresay she may be ransomed. Or they might decide to keep her."

"Keep her... for what?"

Jack stared at him. "You can't be a eunuch, you produced a daughter, and therefore must have some idea of what goes on in beds. Hammocks. Sleeping areas." 

Governor Swann closed his eyes. "No, they wouldn't dare--"

"You know, Governor: a bit of wine, a bit of laughter, some dancing, a featherbed... without the wine, dancing, and featherbed, and I imagine Elizabeth won't be laughing, really - it's quite an unpleasant place your daughter has gotten herself into, not somewhere I'd want to go myself, thanks." He devoured the last of the banana as Governor Swann lifted seething eyes toward him. "Oh, I've been rude. Would you like a banana?"

The Governor slapped the bowl from his hand, causing Jack to leap backwards. "Commodore, we must go after the--"

The Commodore sighed. "We have one functioning mast, Governor. We'll be lucky to make it to Port Royal in a week, much less chase after _Wickedry_." Poor fellow looked so distraught; if he hadn't tried to cut his pirating days short so many times, Jack might have been inclined to pat him on the head. 

"Aye. Well, I'll leave you two to best decide how to re-rig your ship and will be sailing off into the sunset, do come by again, have a nice--" Jack ground to a halt when the Governor grabbed his jacket collar. "--if you would release me it would be _much _ appreciated--"

"Find her."

"Find who?"

"My daughter."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"The one captured by the _ Wickedry_."

"The same."

Jack extracted himself from the grip and turned to face the Governor, and now his face did reflect something approaching remorse. "Governor, I regret to inform you that chasing the _ Wickedry _is simply not on today's agenda. Nor tomorrow. The day after does not look good, either--"

"Damn you, Sparrow, I thought you befriended her!"

"We were acquaintances," he said. "By chance." _And if I tell you what she's like when she's had rum, you're going to kill me in a wonderfully exotic manner! _"Lovely girl, but not enough for me to stretch my neck for, I'm afraid." 

"What is it you want? Money? Crew? A new ship?"

Jack placed a hand upon his heart. "You'll hurt _Pearl'_s feelings!" 

"Come, Governor, we have no need of him." 

Jack nodded to the Commodore. "Smart boy there. Very smart. Maybe too smart for his own good. He'll be a lovely Admiral one day. The wig leeches you of color, though."

"Captain Sparrow, I beseech you--"

"_Black Pearl _is a fine ship, Governor, but she cannot match the _Wickedry_ in arms." 

"Captain..." 

Anamaria Soledad strode down from the forecastle, a pistol in one hand. "I believe you two have overstayed y'welcome on the _Pearl_." 

"You saved her once, Captain Sparrow. Save her again. I beg you. She is... she is all I have." Jack sucked in a deep breath and prepared to tell off the Governor once and for all, but the man's racing brain finally came up with something of worth. "I will grant you clemency. Immunity. A... a pardon."

"A _pardon_?" The Commodore cried in dismay. 

Now his head _did _turn towards the Governor, and slowly. "...a pardon, you say?" Fingers reached up to stroke the braids in his beard. "For... everything?" The hell with a clean record - but the look on the Commodore's face was entirely too priceless to let this one go. 

"Your record will be wiped clean." 

"And my crew, what of my crew?" He couldn't resist dancing a gleeful little jig, drumming his fingertips together as he watched the Commodore go quite pale. 

"Theirs as well."

Jack began to smile. He smiled his slow, curving smile - one that revealed his gleaming gold teeth, one by one. He practiced it twice a week to make sure he timed it just right; he had it down to a fine blend of mirth and malice, menace and friendliness. He called it his Pirate's Grin. "Perhaps _Wickedry _may best us with her guns... but there are other ways of achieving things. Very well!" He bowed, sweeping his hat off. "Consider your Elizabeth rescued, Governor. I shall require proof of my clearing."

"Yes." 

"What about the boy?" The Commodore asked. Jack's brows knit together. Will Turner. Good lad. "You'll bring back the... boy?"

"_Well_, see here, Governor and Commodore, they may already have sacrificed him to their--"

"Hardly funny, Captain," the Governor said warningly. 

He shrugged. "Our deal never included Turner. 'Bring me Elizabeth, Sparrow! Save Elizabeth, Sparrow!' None of that 'Save my Willy-Nilly!' at all." 

"I rather assumed they came together," the Governor mumbled.

Jack leaned away from him, mouth puckering. "I don't do package deals. Two-for-one, someone always gets shortchanged."

"Then what will it take to bring the boy back? Elizabeth will be heartbroken... heartbroken..." 

_Nothing like rum to mend a broken heart... rum, and something... no Jack. Not while you're talking to the faaaaaaaaaaather! _

"You're grinning rather idiotically, Captain Sparrow. What could possibly be funny?"

"Nothing, Commodore. I will require a sum of money to be paid upon the return of the lad and lady." 

"What kind of sum?"

He shrugged. "Depends on how many shirts I have to go through to get them back. I'll be sure to let you know." He extended one hand, admiring the rings as he did so. "Do we have an accord, gentlemen?"

The Governor reached for his hand first. 

He made them write it up. Two copies: one for him, one for the Governor. After reading the signatures for the third time, he folded up his copy and selected a pocket to tuck it into. "You'd best be getting to your ship, gentlemen. _Black Pearl _has a mean and nasty pirate to catch." 

The Governor went back to _ Relentless _quickly enough, but the Commodore lowered his voice before addressing Jack directly. "If you fail, Captain, your life will be forfeit. I will hunt you down and you will _wish _you had been granted the quick and clean death of a hanging. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack smiled. "Disturbingly so." 

"And Captain..." the Commodore leaned close. "...if the Turner boy doesn't return... well... I don't see them suited for each other anyway, do you?"

Then he was gone, back to his poor sick little ship. Jack buffed his nails, picked a cuticle, looked into his pockets. "A pardon," he said as Joshamee Gibbs stepped over for orders. "Funny thing, that. What _will _the Commodore do without me to chase?"

"Ye took a _pardon_, Jack. Why in hell's balls would you bother? Ye'll just shred it up anyway, should we rescue the girl..."

"Because, my dear Gibbs, the emotional turmoil it will put Commodore Norrington through will be worth every cent of it." He clapped the man on the back. "So we'll be clean for a bit. It won't be the end of the world, and we'll sully ourselves shortly after!" 

"The Commodore... he's still besotted with the girl, aye? Jack... why's he want her? He knows what they'll do t'her. They'll ruin 'er."

Jack shrugged. "Gerrarrd is brutal, but he's not stupid. He may hold onto her and hope to get a bigger price for an unharmed wench than a pirate's whore. My guess is they'll set up in a port, send a ransom note, and if it's not met they'll dally her out as they please." 

"And Bootstrap's boy?"

"Dead already. They've no use for him, unless he can convince them he wants to turn pirate... and I don't know if he's that devious. Someone clean up those bananas!" Jack walked slowly to the wheel, stroking the spokes with his knowing hands. "A good man, that lad. And she a good woman. They saved my life." He checked the compass before barking out some orders. As the crew rushed to fulfill them, Gibbs sent him an odd look.

"You was plannin' to go after them anyway, weren't ya?"

"They saved my life," he repeated, "and let no one say Cap'n Jack Sparrow doesn't repay his debts." He looked toward the horizon, toward the island he knew Gerrarrd would put into.

"Does this make us _legal _ pirates now, Cap'n?" 

"_Is _there such a thing?"

"Drink up, me hearties!" Mr. Cotton's parrot squawked above him. Jack raised an imaginary mug to the bird.

"Yo-ho!" 

"Cap'n..." Gibbs only called him _captain _when he didn't like something. 

"Rest easy, Mr. Gibbs, we'll set after them and all will be well." The distressed look did not vanish from the second mate's eyes, and Jack studied the horizon. "An' if it's too late to rescue the lad... at least one of 'em'll live to see another sunset." 

"'less they torture her." 

"Maybe not." His smile turned pensive. "'Lizabeth Swann isn't exactly the type o'woman to take such things... lying down, if ye get my meaning." 

No, Gibbs did not get his meaning; he merely nodded and went about his business, leaving Jack at the wheel. _I'll have to watch my tongue. There are sharper individuals than Gibbs in these waters. _

He had promised her his silence, after all. 


	4. When Good People Do Stupid Things

What a ship is... what the Black Pearl _really is... is freedom. _

"Freedom my arse," Elizabeth grumbled as the burliest men of _Wickedry_'s crew escorted her to meet the captain. To be fair, they didn't so much _escort_ her as they did bodily lift her off the ground by her arms and drag her along. She supposed she should have been afraid, but all she could manage to muster at the moment was anger. No, she wasn't really angry... she was _offended. _This was the second bloody time in three months! 

"What?" Poor Will continued trying to gain his feet, earning himself several cuffs upside the head. 

"Something Jack said."

"Jack... Sparrow?" This new voice rang low and calm, drifting over her ears and settling somewhere in the back of her mind. 

Elizabeth closed her mouth as the red-clad man strolled towards them. He didn't _look _mean, with sun-sweetened dark hair and a pair of fairly pleasant gray eyes. He circled them with his hands clasped behind his back, boots scuffing along the worn deck planking. "An old friend named Jack, Mr..."

"Captain. Ye may call me Captain Gerrarrd." Elizabeth's heart dropped down to her knees. From what Corwin and her father had been saying of Gerrarrd before her capture, he may well have been on par with Barbossa. At least with Barbossa she'd had the lure of the medallion, the blood in her veins - and Jack Sparrow tailing her. "It's quite all right, Miss Swann; every pirate in the Caribbean knows of Jack Sparrow's... heroic exploits... in saving ye and yer blacksmith - nay, pirate's son, isn't it? Is this him?"

Will glowered at him, and the captain tisked. "Respect your elders, son." With that, he backhanded Will so hard his head spun around, and Elizabeth could see blood fly as his teeth connected with his tongue. Elizabeth tried to yank free, but the two men on either side of her were far too powerful. "Ah, feisty lass, is it? No worries, Mr. Turner; I knew your father." 

"Who didn't," Will whispered.

"Bootstrap. Old friend of mine. 'Till he went respectable, that is. Took on that lad Jack Sparrow for awhile, too. I 'spect that's why Jack helped ye at all, y'see. Bootstrap brought him up to be a nice young man. Heinous." Gerrarrd spat on the deck, and Elizabeth politely adverted her eyes. Jack would _never _allow someone to spit while aboard. It was disrespectful to the ship, after all. "I s'ppose ye want to know what's to be done with ye."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she said in as demure a voice she could manage. If Gerrarrd followed _ typical _code, he would menace her a bit, make a few pointed threats - and then ransom her for a number that would make her father grit his teeth, but pay up. If Gerrarrd graduated from the Barbossa School of Piracy, though... 

He patted her head. "I must admit, I did not expect a governor's daughter to be so comely. I was inclined to ransom you for an exorbitant amount... but now..." He slipped his hand along her cheek to better cup her chin, and Elizabeth swallowed her revulsion. Up close, she could see a nasty scar slicing down his partially-exposed chest, and his hands smelled of blood and gunpowder. "...perhaps I should keep you a bit, and see what there is to you, hmm?"

Will - utilizing strength she did not know he had - ripped free of his captors and lunged for Gerrarrd, hands outstretched. The pirate captain was caught off-guard for the slightest second, and cut loose with a bellow as they both went sailing into the bulkhead. Will promptly began pounding him with both fists, and Elizabeth could do nothing but bury her face in her hands as two more of Gerrarrd's floozies leaped in to pry him off. _ Oh, brave Will! Why do you have to be so... stupid?_

Stupid? Will wasn't stupid. Will had gone to hell and back to rescue her. Will had just done an incredibly brave, sweet thing, standing up for the honor of a girl he had only properly kissed once...

_Like I said. Stupid._

"Hittin' the captain's a hangin' offense, _laddie_," one of the floozies said as he slammed Will up against the wall. Elizabeth peered around him. Yes, Will's feet did dangle. Strong pirate. 

Gerrarrd laughed, wiped at his bleeding nose. "Nay, nay, I like this lad, I do. Take him below, clap him in irons, but... there may yet be potential..." The floozies dragged a struggling Will away, and Gerrarrd turned his attention back to Elizabeth. "Yer quite still, pretty lassie."

She smiled. What was she supposed to say? _Sorry, I've been captured by pirates before and the best thing to do is just sit here until you kill each other _probably wouldn't sit well. _ Sorry, the pirates I was kidnapped by before were disintegrating corpses and you're just not terribly impressive _wouldn't work either. Perhaps it would be best to simply get to the point. "Are you going to kill me, maim me, or otherwise use me as a sacrifice?"

Gerrarrd guided her into his cabin, laughing heartily. "Ah, yer experience with Barbossa has taught you something, hasn't it, love? Word's gone up and down the islands as to yer adventures wi'him, of that I assure ye... no, I won't be killin' ye, so long as ye keep me interest up. And unlike Barbossa... I can feel _everything_." He nudged her into his cabin, glancing back over his shoulder. "We make port t'night in Rudder's Bay. Make y'self comfortable till then, and ye might want to store up yer energy... ye never know what goes on in Rudder Bay."

The door shut, and she heard the turn of a key in the lock. _Bloody pirate! _She immediately began riffling through the captain's belongings, passing over the small table, feeling underneath the feather mattress, prying open drawers and anything else she could get her hands on. Nothing that opened yielded anything she could use as a tool or weapon - not even a bloody butter knife. Gerrarrd had been quite thorough in preparing for his prisoner.

Quite thorough... by way of experience?

She sat on the bed and noted how soft it was, and her discomfort grew. _He's kept other women here before. Hostages, in relative comfort, using them until he tires of them. _ Her light summer dress did nothing to drive away the sudden chill, and she rubbed her hands over her upper arms. _ How many women have lain here... died here? _

She had called Jack Sparrow despicable, once upon a time. That had been before she met Barbossa, before she met Gerrarrd, before she had been exposed to the true face of piracy. Jack Sparrow was a bloody gentleman when compared to the two, and good-hearted at that. Jack Sparrow would find a way out of here without question. Jack Sparrow...

Jack Sparrow had fired on her ship.

"Once a pirate, always a pirate." 

And her father, still aboard the wounded _Relentless_... Papa and Corwin, turned on by the very man they had thought they could trust. _The only trustworthy pirate_, her father had told her at supper once, _and then, only by default. _No. There were no trustworthy pirates, despite her father's fondness for Sparrow. There were only those who did not always rape and pillage and murder - they just plundered. They took what they wished, and to hell with anything else.

_They cannot take by force what is given freely._

"Damn you, Jack Sparrow," she growled, curling up on the bed. "Damn you to hell." 

Will touched his chin gingerly, then lowered his hands with a disgusted sigh. He'd have a very attractive bruise right about there come morning, and if he'd been back at home, still working at the forge, he would have made up some outlandish story to tell Elizabeth to explain its origins. Most of the bruises he'd gotten from the old donkey he had explained away as heathens trying to steal his earnings. Then there had been the burn disguised as saving a damsel (attempting to make her jealous had backfired most heinously, as she had attempted to find the rogue accosting said damsel and send him to the noose) and then the nice little cut that had been attributed to a pirate.

Oddly enough, a _real _ pirate had turned up just afterwards.

"I hate pirates," he said conversationally to the pisspot in the corner. "They should all be hanged."

"You'd hang yer own papa?"

Will settled his glare on Captain Gerrarrd, who leaned against the cage with languid cheeriness. "If it helps to clean out the stench that wafts over the ocean, why not?"

The captain chewed on a quid of tobacco. "Interestin' words from the boy that commandeered a royal ship."

Will sighed, the fight ebbing out of him. "Does _everyone _know about that?"

"Mostly. Word spreads fast 'mongst our own, ye know. Sailors do love their talk... and it moves, from island to island, twistin' and turnin'. Why, some folks on the outside'll be thinkin' ye took over the entire British Navy by the time th'story reaches 'em, an' ye an' Jack Sparrow will be welcome heroes." A flash of white teeth. "Or villains. Depen' on who ya get, ye understand."

Will decided to ignore him. He focused instead on the pisspot and its queerly graceful lines; odd, that one could find craftsmanship in a pot meant for... well, piss. 

"Doncha even wanna know 'bout yer wench?"

"She's not my _wench_," he said witheringly.

"Aye, yer _lady-friend _is up in my cabin, awaiting me touch. How'd ye like to wager she never dreamed she'd get a pirate as her first? 'Less ye two've already... been at the sports?" Gerrarrd peered at him anxiously, but Will continued to study the pisspot and compare its beauty to the greatest architectural elements he'd seen in his twenty years. "Not one fer talkin', are ye boy? Ye got a strong heart, I'll give ye that. Might make a decent pirate one day."

"Sparrow said that," he muttered before he could help himself.

"Bah! Sparrow's the nuttiest nut this side o'the Atlantic, somethin' be wrong with that boy, of that I assure you. But 'e had a good eye for friends... if not enemies. Truth is, most folks that get te be friends wi'ium end up dyin' for 'im. Can't rightly say why. 'E must have dreadful bad luck. Though, perhaps 'tweren't bad luck so much s'twere _strange _luck, into trouble an' out again, wi' all his baubles and beads..." Gerrarrd went on like this for quite some time, pacing back and forth in front of the cell. Will at last gave up his contemplation of the pisspot and settled for staring at the captain as he continued his soliloquy, and abruptly decided that all pirates were a little bit mad.

"...n'smuch that we don't know _ quite _what to... aye, yer still here?" Gerrarrd shook his head. "I get away from meself, time to time. What was I sayin'?"

He decided it was worth trying to pull a Sparrow. "You were about to let me go." 

Gerrarrd smiled warmly at him. "No." 

He shrugged. "Worth a try." 

"Ye might make a good pirate, lad... iffin' ye know when te draw yer lines. We make port t'night, an' I'll have the lads fetch ye food. When I finish up wi' yer pretty governor's daughter, I'll have 'er sent down to ye. Think o'er as... a complimentary dessert, aye?"

The captain headed off, and Will was left with his own thoughts. If the man gave him Elizabeth... _if... _ she might be able to pocket something from his quarters. She might have ideas. If they put their heads together, _surely _they could escape this dingy cell. Surely...

If the man gave him Elizabeth, it would be _after _he had his way with her. She would be in no condition to plan an escape.

_Port tonight. _They would dock tonight, then - or drop anchor. He had until then to think up a clever way to get out of this cell and fetch Elizabeth, and then get the two of them safely away. 

In the middle of the ocean.

Yes.

_Futility. _A fine companion for the evening. 

He eyed the pisspot. 


	5. Daring Escapes and Inauspicious Meetings

"Why d'ye suppose they call it Rudder Bay?" Gibbs asked as he and Anamaria rowed ashore. Jack sat at the tiller, dark eyes sweeping over the tiny harbor watchfully. _Black Pearl _ had dropped anchor on the far side of the cove, artfully hidden behind a grove of trees. Assuming Gerrarrd took the usual route to the harbor, he would be quite convinced that Jack Sparrow and his merry bunch were nowhere to be seen. So far, he saw no sign of _ Wickedry._

"Some poor sod lost 'is rudder and hadta set up shop for ten years," Anamaria said. "Seems he got rescued on the same day the rudder fin'ly floated ashore, pristine as th'day he lost it." 

Gibbs clucked his tongue. "Now that thar's just plain bad luck. Cap'n, you've taken us to a bad luck 'arbor."

"I make my own luck," Jack said primly. 

"Aye, an' if it doesn't hold, tha' little girlie of yours is gonna be makin' the luck for Gerrarrd, I can assure you o'that," Anamaria said, pulling at the oar with just a little bit more force. "He's no gentleman pirate."

"There are no gentleman pirates, dearie, just gentlemen pretending to be pirates." Jack eyed her. "You know him?"

She smirked at him. "Ye don't mince yer words, Jack Sparrow. 'E tried to get biblical with me on the _ Nefarious _'nigh six years ago. I ripped him a hole in his chest 'fore all was said n'done, and 'es had it in for me ever since. Though I hear he goes after... easier targets now." The lean muscles in her arms strained as she worked the oar. "Though he may be surprised with what Miss Lizzie dishes out for him." 

"Tha' girl's brain moves too fast for 'er body. She's bad luck, I tell ye," Gibbs said. Jack rolled his eyes and adjusted his hat. "What're we t'do when we spot 'er, anyway? _If _the ship comes."

Jack drummed his fingers together. "If Gerrarrd follows his typical pattern, he'll come ashore and spruce up a bit before wooing the strumpet. That's our chance."

"Our chance to what?" Anamaria asked.

Jack shrugged. 

"Ye fully intend to spring Miss Swann and 'er bonny boy from the _Wickedry _and you haven't even a _plan_?"

Jack smiled at her. "Isn't it a beautiful night?"

"'Course he's got a plan, Anamaria! He just ain't gonna share it with us yet, is all, right Jack?"

"Of course." Jack swept the hat off his head and bowed deeply. "I must retain some shred of decency, after all. My mother _always _taught me to be humble."

"No need to be humble," Anamaria growled as she hauled on the oar. "You're not that great."

The rhythmic rocking of the ship had eased, drawing her from the fitful sleep she had slipped into. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear shouted orders and knew the ship had dropped anchor - but why? Where? She opened her eyes, and the captain's cabin aboard _Wickedry _came back into focus. Elizabeth remained still as the door swung open, her eyes tracing over the fine form of Gerrarrd in the doorway. "Evenin', lassie," he drawled. "Did ye have a nice nap?"

"Where are we?" First things first: _establish location. _Gerrarrd smiled at her, pouring a glass of wine.

"We are in Rudder Bay, sweets, and here we'll stay until we decide what to do with ye - keep ye on, send ye to yer father, let ye visit Davy Jones..." He smiled widely at her shudder. "Perhaps the first option is most tempting right now? _Wickedry _keeps on none who canna' pull their own weight, love, so ye'd best think long n'hard 'bout what it is ye want." He left the wine where it was, flashing another smile at her. "Last lady I had complained long n'hard 'bout how dirty I was, so I'll be ashore to wash up and attend t'some... other things. Drink up the wine, love... makes things easier." Another smile, another wink, and the door shut - and locked. Elizabeth sat on the bed for a full minute before pushing herself up, swinging her legs out, and walking right across to the wine.

She sniffed at it. Berries. Not bad. Berries could be used to cover other scents, though... scents of potions. Potions that would make her sleep, or make her quiet, or at least make her silly. No, that would _not _do. Picking up the corked bottle, she turned it over in her hands, appreciating its weight. It would make a handy weapon, were she to smash someone over the head with it. It might even be able to break through the glass-plated windows on the captain's door. 

_But there are many pirates, and few of me. _

She looked toward the gallery of windows at the back of the cabin, and a smile tugged at her lips. Gerrarrd had thought of _nearly _everything when he had locked her away; why bother sealing off windows? If someone jumped overboard while at sea, they'd just drown, or be eaten by sharks. Anchored in a bay, though... 

She opened one window and poked her head out. _Wickedry _lay with her head pointed toward shore, and Elizabeth's smile widened. Father had always been dismayed by her swimming skills, though they had served her well in the past. The drop from stern to water turned her stomach more than she would have liked to admit, but one had to do what one had to do, after all. She hiked her skirt up, snatched the bottle, and placed one foot onto the frame.

_Am I daft? _She had never even _heard _of Rudder Bay, and if it was anything like the other sheltered Caribbean towns she'd heard of... but it _had _to be better than here. She couldn't get to Will with things as they were, but she might be able to find one of Corwin's dispatches. He had posted troops in every known town the second Jack Sparrow had escaped, but whether or not they'd found their way to Rudder Bay was a question she would have to answer for herself. Elizabeth took one last look around Gerrarrd's cabin, clutched the bottle against her chest, and leaped out the window. She pushed the glass back into the closed position as she fell.

_SPLASH! _The water, cold and clear, closed over her head. She came to the surface again in the shadow of the rudder, and she promptly hid beneath it, glancing upwards at _Wickedry_'s overhanging stern. At least one pirate had been on duty, and she heard him calling to his companion. "Wot's that, d'ye suppose?" He sounded as though he were directly above her; certainly they were scanning the water.

"I hears they got flyin' fish in this here harbor. Might be that." 

"Ain't this the place where the dead crawl out on full moons?"

Elizabeth chanced being seen and peered around the side of the ship. Only a half-moon. Good.

"Naws, that's half-moons..." The voices faded. Elizabeth took a breath, slid under the surface, and began the long swim towards shore. She tried to follow along _Wickedry_'s hull, pulling away only when the bulk tapered down to the bow. An outcropping of land reached out into the water not far away - if she could scramble to the shore, if she could keep hidden in the foliage, maybe, maybe...

_Shore! _Her waterlogged shoes caught hold of sand, and she stumbled onto the beach. Taking a moment to shake the most immediate droplets from her person, she tucked the wine bottle beneath one arm and began trudging further inland. The twinkling lights of the Rudder Bay settlement beckoned to her, and the warm Caribbean breeze lifted her hair and pushed dampness away from her face. With the breeze came a boost of confidence: she, Elizabeth Swann, had engineered a dashing and effective escape from a pirate ship! It was the stuff of novels, really - everything a _real _hero would do, leaping, swimming, taking stock of situations. 

Stopping to survey the town, she planted one hand on her hip, cupping the bottle in her other. "_Damn_, I'm quite good, aren't I?" If things kept up at this pace, she'd have no trouble rescuing Will and getting back to Port Royal before morning. She might even be able to convince her father it had all been a horrible dream.

Elizabeth forged into Rudder Bay.

"_Wickedry _dropped anchor a half-hour ago, Jack. Gerrarrd just came ashore." 

Jack turned toward the bay, smiling. "Right on time..." 

Gibbs fell into step beside him as Anamaria faded back into the hubbub. "Captain, what _are _we plannin' on doing?"

"You are going to get Gerrarrd a few too many bottles of rum, Gibbs." 

Gibbs stopped. "Wait, why _me_?"

Jack draped an arm around his shoulders, gesturing widely with his free hand. "Why, Gerrarrd knows what _I _look like, after all! You've been wanting to join up with him for years, an' here's your big chance! Dazzle him, Gibbs, dazzle him. And then dazzle him s'more, while Anamaria and I... have a bit of fun wi' his boat. Ship." 

"What if he don't be buyin' it?" Gibbs peered at something over Jack's shoulder - something wearing a sodden lavender gown and stalking toward them quite menacingly. "He ain't a stupid man, says I."

"Then hit him with a... what _ are _you looking at?" Jack turned around just as Gibbs began backing away. The lavender creature had lifted a rather large-looking bottle over her head and made a dive just as the captain grabbed at her wrist. "What in--"

"You _despicable creature!_" Elizabeth used her free hand to crack Jack Sparrow not once, but _twice _ across the face. Sparrow's mouth had fallen open upon seeing her with the bottle, but only when she spoke did he seem to truly recognize her.

"Miss... _Swann_?"

"Let go of my wrist so I can pummel you!" 

Sparrow looked back and forth, clasped both her hands in his, and soundly pushed her up against the nearest brick wall. The bottle dropped to the ground as he twisted one of her legs up around his hip, grabbed at her battering hands and effectively pinned her between himself and the wall. "Aye, lassie," he said loudly, "iffin' it's me you're wantin', it's me you're havin'! Ye like that better?"

_Is this it, then? I go from the bed of one pirate to the lust of another? _"You devil, you son of a--" 

"Miss Swann, truly it's lovely to see you again," he whispered, and her struggles ceased instantly. "Mind that I had no idea it was your ship we fired on, else we would have come to your aid." 

She smiled winningly at him. "Will you let go of my hands?"

"Are you going to hit me?"

"Probably." 

"Then, m'lady, I fear you're rather... stuck. Gibbs, the bottle, if you will; shan't let such a drink go to waste." As Gibbs knelt to pick up the bottle, Sparrow reached down, feeling her thigh beneath the gown. "You swam? How did you get away?"

"I jumped out the window. After Gerrarrd left." 

He looked mildly impressed. "My dear, your bravery borders stupidity. Now, love, I'm going to tell you what to do, and I want you to do it. I'm going to be lettin' go of your hands, and you're going to put them 'round me neck, and we're going to playact a very good time, s'that understood? Gerrarrd came ashore not long ago, and unless you'd like to go back..." When she shook her head, he released her hands, and she draped her arms about his neck. The sudden contact between them quieted her thoughts but startled her body, and she unconsciously drew him closer, the memory of something fresh upon her skin. The scent of smoke and sea-air clung to him, and when he again spoke, his voice had dropped further. "We must all learn to play parts from time to time, _ Elizabeth_, if we are to survive in this world. Tell me what happened, and swiftly."

"Will is still aboard _Wickedry_," she whispered. "He has been locked away in the brig, I don't know why, but Gerr_arrd_--" Her voice caught as Sparrow made a move with his hand. Must play the part, after all. "--fancies he shall turn him into a true pirate. He sees something in him, something..."

"Curse all," Sparrow growled. He turned to Gibbs and jerked his head in the opposite direction. To the local gawker, he might well have instructed the man to give them a bit of privacy; Gibbs bowed his head and hurried away, setting the bottle back down. Sparrow set her back on her own two feet and picked it up, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Elizabeth leaned back against the wall, boneless as his warmth left her. "Would you really have hit me with this?"

"Yes." 

"Remind me never to anger you too greatly." Sparrow patted her head before turning to survey the road, hair-beads jangling. "Have you been hurt, love? Are you all right?"

"Aside from being soaking wet, I'm fine." She realized how warm he had been when he stepped away, and she reached up to rub the wet fabric of her dress. "And a bit cold..." Sparrow did nothing. "Rather cold, in fact... and wet... and..." She stared at his jacket, and the pirate grinned at her. 

"Ah, silly me." Sparrow tugged his jacket off and slipped it about her shoulders. "Can't have you returned to your papa with pneumonia, now can I? He'd probably hang me." 

"That's not all he'd hang you for... you're bringing me to my father?" She followed him into the streets, sniffed when he plunked his old hat on her head. "Is he here?"

"No, he an' his _Commo_-dore are trying to get your little ship back to port. My lady, you look simply smashing in that hat. Can't have you being spotted. I'll drop you at Port Royal and none will ever be the wiser. Unless, of course, you fancy a jaunt about the Caribbean first? Step lively now, I've a place you can stay until we find your dear Will." 

"It's good to see you again, Jack," she mumbled. He smoothed his hand down her shoulders. He looked exactly the same as he had when he'd botched his leap to the _Pearl - _save a new pair of rings and even more of the charcoal smeared around his eyes. Will had changed. Her father had changed. Corwin had changed. _She _had changed. Yet here was Jack Sparrow, spry and bright as ever. _How does he do it? _

"'Tis good to see you again as well, lass. Though I'm beginning to wish we could meet under more auspicious circumstances." The captain chuckled low in his throat. "And perhaps for once in _dry clothes!_"

_(Ooooh, I've never gotten so many reviews. Thanks all! I hope you enjoy the story - it's a trip to write it. Because ff.net has been having... hiccups... I've put up a page for it. ff.net will not let me put said page into this document. Therefore, it will go in my profile. However, since profiles are inaccessible due to upgrades it will have to wait. As soon as the upgrade is done, I'll plunk it in and remove this irritating message. Dude, can you believe it? Now I'm 'Elemental Evil1' - I guess that's interesting sounding. I didn't know there was another Evil. Grrrr. Ah well. I am not sure why Chapter Two is MIA, but I'm guessing it fell into some kind of abyss. It is alive and well at the site I set up for it, and I'll try re-uploading it to ff.net. Give 'em a couple days before asking "Uh... where'd it go? Drink up, me hearties!) _


	6. Oh, Crud

The tavern sported the name Mystic Wench, and Elizabeth had been unceremoniously plunked in front of a hearth to dry off while Jack Sparrow accepted quite a few slaps from the owner of the place - a lady he had addressed only as Dirce. The woman spat several words at him in an unfamiliar language, and Jack groped about for responses - at last waving a bag in front of her eyes. She snatched the bag, slapped him again, nodded roughly to Elizabeth, and stomped back to her bar. 

Jack plunked down next to her and mumbled something under his breath. Elizabeth hid a smile. "You do seem to get struck rather often, Captain Jack, if it's not too bold to say."

"It's how they express their feelings for me, I'm certain." He rubbed one of the charms in his hair between his fingers. "Now - Miss Elizabeth - Dirce speaks Greek and money. If ever she starts talking too loudly for your pleasure, simply wave a bit at her. Shillings will do, but the larger coins will earn you a bit more... but that probably doesn't interest you terribly, does it?" When she smiled at him, he went on. "Dirce owes me a favor or more from our stomping days... and she'll hold her tongue if Gerrarrd and his men come calling. The _Pearl'_s crew will be along shortly to ferry you back, wherein I will go and fetch the whelp."

It took her a moment to realize that _the whelp_ meant Will. "But I want to go..." Ah, there it was: the whine she had always been capable of. 

Jack patted her hand indulgently. "While normally I would be inclined to allow you to slaughter your little heart out, at this point in time I must make note that your father is going to have my head if there is so much as a scratch on you, and I really _do _like my head where it is. No, Elizabeth, you are _not _coming along."

"But I should be able to help save Will!"

"Ah, yes, and so you'll leap atop the railing. 'Avast, aye!' you'll shout, sword firmly in your delicate yet strong hand." Jack punctuated his story with great sweeping gestures, imitating the very motions he described. "Cut them down you shall, cut them away, until you at last reach your bonny lad, upon whence he shall take one look at your blood-splattered person, suffer a massive coronary, and drop dead where he stands." A shake of his head sent the beads and trinkets to jangling. "No, Elizabeth, I prefer Mr. Turner alive and well." 

Elizabeth's attention had wandered after _blood-splattered _and she accepted the warm mug that Dirce offered her. "Thank you," she said, and the woman patted her head, jabbering away in Greek. She didn't _sound _like she was cursing her, at least. "What's she saying?"

He listened. "She likes your hair. She wants to get a blanket to dry it before it tangles. She..." Jack paused, tilted his head at the woman. "No, Dirce--" this followed by some indecipherable jabbering. Now they both spoke Greek again, Elizabeth looking back and forth between the two. Jack at last broke off the argument. "--she thinks I'm a scoundrel."

"You _are_ a scoundrel."

He batted his eyes at her. "But lass, you make it sound complimentary. She doesn't." 

"Where did you learn to speak Greek, anyway?" The drink tasted foul, but it warmed her insides as she swallowed it. Jack shrugged, swatting Dirce's backside good-naturedly as she bustled away. Wonder of wonders, the woman did not turn to slap him again. 

"Needs must, Miss Swann. Piracy requires _communication_, after all."

"Communication?"

"Aye!" Jack turned to her as though he were bestowing some mighty truth. "Otherwise you'll _never _be able to properly threaten those who might oppose you." His smile became downright lewd. "An' if you can charm their women with words, all the better..."

"Duly noted, Captain." 

There were a hundred things she wished to say to him; a hundred things that had crossed her mind since they left the island, a hundred that had turned into a thousand. Pirate, friend, teacher... she watched his outline, observed his motions as he picked up a bauble from the floor and examined it. Even at rest he was always in motion, always doing _something, _seeing something. _Inauspicious_ meetings, indeed... one saving would lead to another. She wondered if the day would come when Jack Sparrow would leave the Caribbean entirely, seek more fertile hunting grounds abroad. 

She had to say something. The quiet - however companionable it might be - was far too like something else in the not-terribly-distant past. 

But what did one talk to Jack Sparrow about? Particularly in this situation?

It might have been easier to bring up small things, ordinary things - the talk she often shared with Will. 

But Sparrow had never been one for small things.

The door opened and closed as patrons went in and out. "Jack," she said after a time, "I always wanted to ask you--"

She gasped as something sharp and cool pressed against her throat, and Jack leaped to his feet a split second too late. "We meet again, mistress," Gerrarrd purred into her ear as he pulled her to her feet. "Consorting with the enemy? Tut tut! I should have ye flogged... or will the crew be more to yer likin'... an' Lieutenant Crow, _really_, I thought ye'd a bit more sense." 

"_Captain Sparrow_," Jack said, drawing himself up with a _most _offended dignity - and seemingly not minding the three pistols currently aimed at his head. "May I ask just what it is you think you're doing?"

Gerrarrd clucked his tongue. "Takin' me prisoner back where she belongs."

"Prisoner? I see no prisoner, Captain, though I'll be sure to notify you immediately if said wench does turn up. Now, if you'll excuse us, we were about to--" Jack paused as one of Gerrarrd's men forewent the pistol and put a swordpoint to his neck. One of the men came about, gathering up his weapons. "--will you kindlyput that down, you'll give me hives."

"Where's your crew, Sparrow?" Gerrarrd leaned on her just enough to make her quite aware that she couldn't escape. 

"Oh, I'm sure they're around here somewhere--" Jack lifted his hand to flap it dismissively, then yanked it back as steel flashed down. "Will you _please _stop that? You're beginning to irritate me." 

"_I'll _be giving the orders here, Sparrow. Bring 'im along, Dugald, it might do us a bit of good to bring Cap'n Jack Sparrow aboard."

"I wouldn't recommend that," Jack piped up. "I seem to have an uncanny habit of escaping." 

At this point, Elizabeth sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. _Why can't a day go as I like it... just once? _

Gerrarrd patted her shoulder. "I do believe th'lady grows tired, Sparrow. An' I'll have you know - I do enjoy a challenge." 

Will looked up at the sound of footfalls tromping down stairs. Four different people... one light, two heavy, one stumbling. Struggling. 

"...once again, I really must protest this, it's going to set back my voyaging quite some time, as a matter of fact, I would-- _parler!_"

Or maybe just arguing. 

"I don't believe in _parler_, Finch."

"Sparrow!" 

Keys were produced. The mate pried the cell door open, and Will's headlong rush toward freedom was tempered by the man shoved inside. They smashed into each other and tumbled to the ground, each cursing quietly to himself. Will looked up in time to see a rather damp-looking Elizabeth dumped in as well, and then hope of escape petered away as the cage slammed again.

The beads were still there. So was the hair. "Sparrow," he said as the man lurched to his feet. "What the devil was that about?"

"We were trying to rescue you," Elizabeth muttered. She wore Sparrow's hat and his jacket over her dress, and yes - she _had _been out for a swim, hadn't she? Will looked back and forth between her scowl, Sparrow's twiddling thumbs, and the neat little iron cage - complete with pisspot - and couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. 

The sense of disappointment was accompanied by the faintest stirrings of a scowl. 

"Good job." 

(a/n: with regards to _Attack of the Clones.._. best line in the movie.)


	7. Sigh

"I _said _answer me!" Anamaria struck the tavern owner again, and this time the woman hit her back. Gibbs quickly pried the two of them apart, only to have both of them try their fists on _him_. "You stay out of this, Joshamee!"

"Ye get more with sugar than vinegar, Soledad, and you'd be wise to 'memmer that. Dirce's an old friend o'Jack's, ain't she?" When Anamaria stepped away, he placed both his hands on Dirce's narrow shoulders. "Aye, ye know Jack, don't ye lass? Then where'd he go? And the girl?"

Dirce pointed outward and spat several words in Greek at him. Gibbs sighed and wished he had Jack's gift for languages. "I don't get a word ye say, missy, and if you don't figure a way to say it so I can I may let Anamaria have 'er way with you."

He nodded meaningfully toward Anamaria, who took the cue to crack her knuckles. Dirce rubbed her forehead, searching for the words. "Gerrarrd," she finally grated, "_Wickedry_!"

"_Wickedry _ran out of the harbor not more'n an hour ago, I'm told." Gibbs and Anamaria exchanged glances. "Methinks the good cap'n might've been on 'er." 

"I _told _ye he'd get himself kilt sooner or later! We should've brought the entire bloody crew and shot Gerrarrd 'fore anything happened!"

"Jack works in mysterious ways, Soledad, and he planned this to happen this way." Gibbs said the words loudly enough to convince himself of their truth for the time being. "Dirce, where is Gerrarrd going?"

"How the hell would she know?"

"Dirce knows everything," Duncan said from the doorway. "Bloody information broker's what she is." 

"All the more reason to kill her."

"Soledad, mayhaps ye'd best go see to the ship if all you're mindful of doing is killin' folk. S'bad luck to be killing information brokers." Gibbs waited until her temper had ebbed slightly before continuing. "Now, we want to get Jack back, so Dirce is going to help us if we ask nicely. Duncan, the maps."

Duncan walked over to one of the tables and dumped a map of the known Caribbean on it, planting a pistol on one end and a dagger on the other. Gibbs guided Dirce over to the map and gestured to it. "Where's Gerrarrd going?" When she presented him with a blank look, his patience snapped and he signaled to Anamaria.

She grabbed Dirce by the neck and slammed her headfirst into the map. "_Where _is Gerrarrd _going_? Tell us!" She pointed several times at the map, until Dirce at last lifted a finger and placed it in a general area. Anamaria squinted at it. "Give us an island, bitch."

"Not knowing," Dirce mumbled into the paper. "Not telling, just... three islands." 

"Well, looka who speaka English, huh?" Anamaria yanked her off the map and threw her aside. Gibbs put a mark near the islands. 

"What's he gonna do with 'em there, I wonder?"

"Can we head them off?" Duncan asked.

"I ain't been to those parts. Soledad?"

"Many reefs and shoals in that area. I'm not sure I'd be recommendin' it to us, what with _Pearl _and all. If we had a pilot--"

"We don't." Gibbs rolled up the map and Duncan slapped his weapons back onto his person. "Anamaria, we're getting back to the _Pearl _and chartin' a course through the deeper waters. We'll have to pack on sail, but we'll catch 'em one way or another." 

"The wind is good," Duncan called from outside. 

Gibbs gestured to Anamaria. "After you, m'lady." 

"Just a minute." Anamaria slammed Dirce up against a wall, staring the Greek woman right in the eye. "I know ye understand me, bitch, and don't think I'm not knowin' ye took advantage of our idiot captain's nature t'get him where he is now. An' if ye so much as breathe a word of this to _anyone _livin' or dead, I'll hunt ye down. Ye got me?"

Dirce smiled. "You not know much, pirate-woman."

Anamaria backhanded her once before stalking out. Gibbs shut the door quickly and chased after her as she joined Duncan in the ship's boat. "Mind telling me what the hell that was about?"

"Dirce's been in cahoots with half the sailors that come by these ports, but she ain't the only one with an ear for gossip." Anamaria smiled grimly as the two men began to pull at the oars - in the absence of Jack, it was Captain Soledad now. "Been talk of Gerrarrd hoardin' his supplies an' his loyal followers out in the empty parts for few years now. Didn't rightly believe it till now." 

Gibbs eyed her. "Ye think Dirce's in on it?"

"No, I think Dirce saw profit and took it. Can't blame her. Don't know what they want with Jack. Should've killed him when they found him with the girl..." Dirce gave him a Look. "Ye sure ye didn't find a body?"

"Jack's alive," Gibbs said firmly. "We's just gotta get him out of the tussle he's got himself into. If Gerrarrd's involved, no good can come o'it. Till we get to him, though, the helm be yours, lass." 

"Then put your back into it, ya scalawag, and if I hear one word of bad luck I'll have your ears for a necklace." 

Gibbs thought of how an ear-necklace might be rather fitting around Anamaria's slim neck and suppressed a shudder. "Aye-aye, Soledad." 

**Meanwhile, on _Wickedry... _**

"Wake up, m'pretties, wake up." 

Will opened his eyes and found himself staring at Gerrarrd through the bars of the cage, and Gerrarrd was... swaying? No, _he _was swaying. With the ship!

At sea once again.

_How did I manage to fall asleep?_

"Are you going to feed us, at least?" Jack asked from his corner. He hadn't moved since curling up there during the night. Will thought he looked quite offended by the entire experience. "Or are we to be starved?"

Gerrarrd smiled, shoved a platter through the bottom of the cage. Will tilted his head to get a look at it - bread, soup, not much else. Scarcely enough for two, much less three. Jack picked up the hunk of bread and sniffed at it, made a face. "This isn't food." 

"Get used to it, Raven. Ye ain't eating a captain's fare, but prisoner's leftovers."

"It's _Sparrow_." Jack stood up, planted his hands around the bars, and pressed his face toward Gerrarrd. "_Please _let us go?"

"No." 

"Then if you wish us to remain your prisoners... so it shall be." He paused, gazing into Gerrarrd's fierce gray gaze. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes?"

"When the _Black Pearl _ comes for us, you'll be sorry." 

It hadn't been Jack Sparrow saying that - it had been Elizabeth. Cuddled in the captain's jacket and hat, she looked nothing so much as a pile of old clothing, but she watched Gerrarrd with steady eyes. Jack took the opportunity to nod authoritatively. "Aye, and once she does - well, the lass said it best."

"True, your crew may know of where you are... but of where we're going..." Gerrarrd chuckled, tapped on the cage. "That Dirce, quite a lovely woman, isn't she?" He ambled away, leaving the three prisoners to stare at each other. Well, Jack and Elizabeth stared at each other - Will just watched them.

"He knows Dirce," she said. 

Jack sighed and slumped back into his corner. "Nothing better than a good double-cross." 

"May I inquire as to what happened?" Will asked. All he'd gotten when he last asked that question had been a pair of huffing sighs and not much else. 

Jack pointed at Elizabeth. "_She _jumped out of the ship. Came ashore. Tried to crack me head open with a bottle."

"You _jumped off the ship?_" Elizabeth had always displayed a penchant for adventure, but this seemed perhaps a tad extreme for her. 

" We went to what I thought to be a safe harbor... but..."

"We can see how _that _ worked out," Elizabeth said. "Now we'll need another escape plan."

"My hat." 

She touched her fingers to it. "What about your hat?"

"I would like it back, please." 

"I like this hat."

"So do I, and it's mine."

"But you put it on my head."

"Aye, to disguise you, and seeing that we have been thrown into the brig all the same, you scarcely need it."

"Well, neither do _you_."

Will sighed and picked up the bowl of soup. "Isn't it interesting that whenever the three of us meet up, we seem to fall into the least-agreeable of company?"

"Isn't it interesting," Jack mimicked him, "that whenever the three of us meet up, I wind up thrown in a brig, or a jail cell, or with a noose 'round my neck?"

"Or marooned," Elizabeth mumbled.

"I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that, Miss Swann. I think it can be established that the pair of you are exceedingly disagreeable to my health and well-being. May I _please _have my _hat_?"

She threw it at him.

He caught it, and set it jauntily atop his head. "Aha, I feel more like myself already! Never fear, lad and lassie; I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, I'll find us a way out of this sooner or later..." Will took a sip of the soup and resisted the urge to spit it out - disgusting, but starving himself would lead him nowhere. He would need to keep up his strength if they were to escape - somehow. 

"Why'd he call you 'Raven'?"

"He's just trying to get me angry," Jack said a wee bit _too _cheerfully.

"And you buy into it every time, _Finch_," Elizabeth said. Jack turned on her with a scowl, and she chuckled. "You see?"

"When I was your age, women knew their place."

"And what place would that be, Captain Finch?"

"Between the sheets, of course!" The captain's jovial smile did not quite keep Elizabeth's eyes from narrowing. 

"When you were our age, gunpowder hadn't been developed," Will said, hoping to diffuse the situation. Now the captain's eyes turned to _him_, and he took another sip of the soup. "And sheets likely hadn't, either. I've an idea - let's each think. When we come up with plans, we'll talk about them and decide. All right?"

Elizabeth nodded and reached for the soup. Jack just grunted.

Will decided that probably meant _yes. _

_(Thanks for the lovely reviews, gang! I hope the story continues to entertain. :D)_


	8. This Can't Be Good

"All right," Elizabeth said, "here's what we'll do. I'll complain of stomach pain for a day. Then I'll collapse to the ground and scream in agony. The guard will come in to check on me, and then you two will rush him, take his weapons, and we'll... dispose of those who come down in succession to check, until we've taken the ship!"

"Commandeered," Will corrected her lazily.

Jack offered a bright smile. "Does the sick prisoner bit still work in Port Royal?" 

"I don't see _you _with any ideas, _Captain_."

"I offered several valid and workable ideas."

"We tried bending the bars," Will said. "And we tried using the wet clothing to bend them, and that didn't work, and now my coat's ruined." 

Jack pursed his lips. "I told you we should have used something more... substantial."

The two of them instantly looked to her. "I'm not taking off my dress," she said flatly. Both men shook their heads with mock-sadness, but she didn't miss the gleeful glint in their eyes. _ Why Will, I do believe Captain Sparrow is having an adverse affect on your manners. _He never would have dared to look at her with such intent before they'd been thrown in the cage. Most refreshing. 

Jack exhaled. "I suppose we've no choice but to fall back on Plan B." 

"There's a Plan B?" Will asked.

Jack scrambled to his feet, swaying back and forth with the motion of the ship. Lifting his hands, he paused to flash a grin at the both of them before proceeding to sing.

At the top of his lungs.

"_Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me! We pillage and plunder-_-"

"_We rifle and loot_," Elizabeth joined in.

"_Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho!_" Will stood up and helped Elizabeth to her feet, joining Jack at the front of the brig. "_We kidnap and pillage and don't give a hoot - drink up, me hearties, yo-ho!_" 

Their song echoed in the hold and doubtlessly carried up to the main deck, particularly Jack's surprisingly strong voice. Elizabeth _still _hadn't been able to figure out just what would be accomplished by bellowing out the same song over and over again - besides perhaps irritating _Wickedry_'s crew to the point where they would leap overboard rather than hear another rousing rendition of the Really Bad Eggs song. 

She could see where that would have its merits. However... if the entire crew went overboard, who would be left to let them out?

"_Captain_," Dugald complained, "they're doing it _again_. Can't I just go cut out their throats?"

"No, Dugald, it's improper to be killin' guests... even irritating ones." Sparrow and his two little friends had been singing that bloody song for the better part of the morning - it had gotten to the point where Gerrarrd had caught himself humming along when they set into it. "Perhaps we'd best give them something to do, if they're _that _ bored..."

"Like walkin' the plank, mayhaps, sir?"

Gerrarrd kept his scoff to himself. Stupid first mates were a staple on pirating vessels in these waters: mean enough to take care of the riffraff, and dumb enough to follow all orders. There had been only two exceptions in the history of the Caribbean, one of those famous exceptions being a gent by the name of Barbossa, who had unstaged a very young, very trusting captain some ten years prior and had done quite well for himself in the end... aside from the whole curse thing.

Gerrarrd fancied that he himself would go down in history as the second one.

Barbossa had made one mistake in his lengthy career as a pirate: he had let the young captain live. That young captain had let the hatred fester and spark within him for nearly a decade, finally unleashing it when the time had been right. Barbossa would have saved himself a messy end by killing the lad when he'd had him cornered... but the lad had grown into a man, and the man had been determined. Shrewd. Difficult to take measure of.

And currently locked safely away in _Wickedry_'s brig, singing his bloody lungs out.

To his way of thinking, the circle had been completed. Barbossa's failure to kill Jack Sparrow was the only black mark on an otherwise unsullied career; his cursed _Black Pearl _had taken on riches beyond the wildest dreams of most pirating men. Barbossa had done something else along the way - something he probably never had any inkling of. 

Gerrarrd smiled and gathered up the prisoner's rations from the cook. "I believe it's time to pay our guests a visit, Dugald... keep the helm."

Will's eyes were half-closed when the latest dish was dumped into the brig. He sniffed the air, tasted fresh meat, and his eyes snapped open to behold the steaming tray. Elizabeth lunged for it, only to draw herself up short when Jack held up a hand. Will stayed where he was, watching Captain Gerrarrd study them. "Ye must be hungry."

"After the fine fare you've been givin' us? I'm positively stuffed." Jack patted his belly. "Although I believe the chicken could have used a wee bit more seasoning, and the wine was dry--"

"I'm not going to kill ye."

Jack paused in mid-gesture. "You know, I don't believe anyone's ever said that to me?"

"Think on it." Gerrarrd focused on Will next, and the captain's gaze made him sit up straight. "Turner. Bootstrap's boy. Yer father had his faults, but he was a fine swordsman. Might still be?"

Will smiled at him coldly. "My father's dead."

"Dead? Perhaps not. Flung off a ship with a curse and a cannon at his feet, yes - but dead? Leather wears through after a time, ye know." Gerrarrd shrugged dismissively. "I would have been proud to call him ally." 

Jack tipped his head back against the brig, his normally off-kilter countenance set aside for a chilling tone of lucidity. "William Turner would never have called you an ally." 

"Aye, but he called me friend, didn't he? And so once did ye... Sparrow." 

Jack made a _sorry _gesture when Will looked at him. "In my younger years, my character judgment was not quite so sharp as it is now."

"If you're not going to kill us, then what is it you intend to do with us?" Will asked. His mouth watered at the very thought of being left in peace to devour the food in front of them - unless Gerrarrd had slipped a little something into it. Elizabeth had thought he'd put something in his wine stash, so why not the food?

Gerrarrd pulled a bucket over and sat down on it, looking each of his three prisoners in the eye. "Ah, ye see, lady and lads, ye each serve me a very specific loop in my tasks... in my _ goals_. I had a mind to gain one of ye, to be certain, maybe two, but never all three... and never the _great _and _mighty _Jack _Sparrow_, well-known escape _artiste! _Though in yer case, Jacko, I do believe it to be more a case o'friends in the right places at the right time... something ye really should practice."

Will narrowed his eyes. "We serve a _purpose_?"

"Of _course_!"Jack stood up quickly, waving his hands about once again. "I'd forgotten _entirely_, it's been so long! Yes, it's our turn to play the part in the Wicked and Sinister Plan of - what was your name again? Eunuch Gerrarrd? We're needed to help fulfill some twisted destiny..." He snapped his fingers as a thought came to him. "...it must be Tuesday."

"Name's Ephraim, actually," Gerrarrd said quite mildly.

"Close enough."

"It's Saturday, as well."

"Stop, you're ruining his tirade." Will reached for a slice of meat, only to have his hand slapped by Jack. "I'm _hungry_." 

"You don't know what he's put in there, Willy." 

"_Willy_?" Will and Elizabeth both repeated. Jack perked up. 

"Aye, you two repeat words far faster than Cotton's blasted parrot. Perhaps I should take you two on once we're back on the _Pearl_, how are you with ominous warnings? _Shiver Me Timbers _gets quite bloody old, if you--"

"Enough," Gerrarrd said. "I'm beginnin' te see why Barbossa mutinied, Pigeon, if you take my meaning."

Jack smiled, but his eyes remained flat, cold. "Sparrow."

"Ye'll be thankin' Barbossa one of these days, lad. What he managed to create is quite impressive... something ye might like to have." Gerrarrd touched his hand to his forehead in a mocking salute. "The food ain't poisoned, so y'ell can eat up. And quit that bloody singing before Dugald goes ballistic and rips yer hearts out." 

They did eat the food, and as _ Wickedry _sailed on, days blended together. Gerrarrd continued his damned name-tricks, Jack continued to play along, and Elizabeth rarely said a word aside from "pass the pot" or "turn your back." At least now she rested, content to lie in Will's arms while _Wickedry _passed through night. Will, meanwhile, contented himself with conversing with the very awake - and disturbingly quiet - Captain Jack Sparrow. 

"You keep playing that stupid game with him, he's never going to quit," Will said, gently stroking Elizabeth's forehead as she slept. Jack smiled genially, tapping his fingers against the edge of his hat. 

"Don't you see, lad, if I stop playing, he's won? He drew me into the game the moment I agreed to play." In the darkness of the hold, Jack's teeth glittered unnervingly with light from the swaying lantern. "And I don't like to lose."

"Game? It's naught but a name, Jack, and it's almost funny sometimes... Finch." 

"Don't you be starting with me, lad." Jack tilted his head to the side to gaze at Elizabeth. "How have... things... been?"

"Well enough. Her father is permitting me to court her, and we've been seen about town. I intended to propose to her after _Relentless _docked." Will shut his eyes. He'd planned it to the last moment - he would distract Elizabeth, ask her to wait while the rest disembarked. He reached into the pocket of his coat, withdrew the box he'd placed his masterpiece in. After a moment's hesitation, he offered it shyly to Jack.

The pirate took it delicately, opening it with all the grace of a highborn lady. He looked upon it a moment: a simple silver band with fine lines swirling across it... waves... Will could see it in his mind's eye, gleaming in the dull lantern light. Jack pressed a hand to his heart and looked at Will with slightly-damp eyes. "Oh, Will, of _course _I shall!" 

"Oh, stop it," Will huffed.

"We'll be married on a beach, won't we Will?" Jack affected a high-pitched woman's voice and fluttered his fingers about. "Barefoot in the sand? And I'll wear my beautiful silk dress, and you'll wear your pants."

Will chuckled, wrapping his arms around Elizabeth. "And what of those lovely stockings your grandmother knitted for you, Jacqueline? Will you wear those?"

"Why of _course! _But only if you marry me wearing that _darling _little cap I made for you." 

"All right, but only if we invite... the Commodore!"

"The _Commodore_?" Jack's already-strained voice went downright squeaky. "But he's such a boring cad! _I _think we should invite that _dashing _Jack Sparrow, he's just so..." Jack's alter-ego fluttered her fingers and then placed them against her heart. "..._dashing_!"

"Jack Sparrow is _not _ attending my wedding," Will said firmly. "The way things seem to go with him, we'll end up being chased by yet another set of merciless pirates, to be put to devious and altogether distasteful use." 

"But he's _dashing!_"

"He's bad for my health."

"Bah!" Jack's voice returned to normal as he flicked a chicken bone at Will. "You bleedin' landlubber, at least whenever I'm around your life's not boring, now is it? 'Sides, if 'tweren't for _Captain _Jack Sparrow fallin' into your life, that pretty lass o'yers might have drowned before her beloved Commodore's _very _eyes not so long ago." Jack pointed a finger at him, and one of the gold teeth gleamed from his otherwise white smile. "You owe me, laddie."

Will rubbed Elizabeth's back lightly. "I'm not going to marry you, Jack, no matter how pretty your stockings are." 

Elizabeth grumbled something and pulled her head away from his chest, and Jack swiftly snapped the box shut and pocketed it before she could even look up at either of them. "Do I _really _ want to know what you two are discussing?"

Jack's laughter rasped, and Will felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly. "The prospects of good Captain Gerrarrd, m'lady, nothing more." 

"Ah." She didn't sound like she believed him. How much had she heard? "And have you determined what our _ purpose _for him is, Captain?"

Jack grew quiet again for a moment. "I've got an idea." 

When he refused to speak again, Will reached across and jabbed him in the arm. "Care to enlighten the humble masses?"

"Not particularly; I rather fancy the sound of overeager individuals hanging off my every word."

"Funny," Elizabeth mumbled, re-arranging herself on Will's chest, "your voice is so much more pleasant when it's not being used."

A hand pressed the stained shirt. "Oh, you wound me, my lady."

"Stop it," Will said. "If you've an idea, then please, share it with us." 

Jack sighed, stretched out as fully as he could in the tiny space allotted them. "Think on it this way, my dear minions; Gerrarrd dropped a few hints, did he not? Notably thanking Barbossa, while looking _directly _at me. I can only surmise that Barbossa either did a single bloody good deed for someone else once in his life, or - perhaps more likely - one of his actions has indirectly influenced our current location." Jack studied the cell, wrapped a hand around one of the bars while the other continued to dance about with his words. "_Being _that Barbossa sailed fairly single-mindedly for the last few years of his, ahem, _career_, the damage he wrought and pain he inflicted is far too numerous to comb through - at least for me. I expect for Gerrarrd as well. That leaves the larger picture to be examined."

Will and Elizabeth just stared at him blankly. 

"Do I give you too much credit as intellects? Tell me, lady and lord, what, precisely, you knew of _Black Pearl _before I came leapfrogging into your lives?"

"Ghost ship," Will said. "The most-feared pirates in the Caribbean..."

"Aha! _Very _good!" Jack applauded politely. "And what did that leave the _other _pirates of the Caribbean as?"

"Um... less-feared?"

"Not quite," Elizabeth said. She propped her elbows on his chest to look him in the eye, and Will had to hold back the silly lovestruck grin he always managed to produce when she was around. "I remember Commodore Norrington discussing it once. 'Unimportant,' he said. The other pirates continued their work, but it was _Black Pearl _this and Barbossa that." 

"Which _means _the rest of us were relatively... ignored, if you'll allow the term." Jack tucked his hat down over his eyes, a sure sign that he fully intended to sleep. "I suppose in your worst nightmares, one of them might have finally gotten up the gall to throw a fleet together while Barbossa distracted everyone. But I'll not sully your dreams with anymore talk of me brethren tonight, lovelies." He did favor Will with a wink from beneath the hat - or was it Elizabeth he winked at? "_Do_ sleep well." 

"Wait," Will said, "a... fleet? But... this can't be good!" 

Jack began to snore. 

"Jack, dammit!" 

Despite their best efforts, no amount of prodding, questions, or threats would make the pirate captain say anything else. 

("You said wet-shirt not break, not piss-shirt bend bar!" With regards to Roy O'Bannon & Chon Wang of _ Shanghai Noon_... and _The Pirates Song _belongs to that company, you know, with the mouse... Disney everythin', yo.

One more bit: Jack's _it must be Tuesday _line... subconscious Buffy Musical _Once More, With Feeling_ reference that I did not even notice until having it pointed out. Thank you much!)


	9. An Opportune Storm

The storm came upon _ Black Pearl _as she sailed, backhanding the ship and sending her reeling to port. Through the shrieking wind and flapping sails, Anamaria screamed orders until her voice gave, then summoned her strength and screamed more. The ship had run strongly before a favorable wind for not quite four days, but the little squall that Gibbs had sworn he smelled two days before was rapidly developing all the fixings of a first-rate hurricane. No ship could run under such a pounding - not for long. Not even _ Pearl._

"Joshamee!" She bellowed over the din, "get that canvas squared away, else when the mast falls you'll be beneath it!"

The call was half-warning and half-threat. Gibbs shook his fist at her from aloft before wind and rain temporarily obscured his scrambling figure. Anamaria grumbled a threat and a curse and returned to cajoling _Pearl_, who continued to lean disturbingly to port. Jack had been attempting to re-adjust her running ballast from the moment he'd been hauled aboard at Port Royal - of course, Jack Sparrow claimed the ship's current stability drew directly from Barbossa's treatment of her. They all knew better: _Black Pearl _may have sailed well enough with the old ballast under Barbossa's curse - but she was a living ship now, with a living ship's weaknesses. A fine ship no doubt, but any ship will find danger in a storm. Anamaria tried to ignore the boom swinging wildly over her head and slowly, delicately brought the helm back to her.

A half-hour later, Gibbs stood beside her in the driving rain, holding a waterlogged parasol over the both of them while Duncan ran to get _real _watertogs. "Iffin' this keeps, she can't hold course," he shouted into her ear.

"Aye, but if we be gettin' it then so does _Wickedry_," Anamaria yelled back. "And I'll reckon _Pearl_'s got finer storm speed!"

"Storm speed does nothing if we're capsized!"

"Then we'll not be capsized, will we?" Anamaria handed the wheel over to Gibbs as she shrugged into the heavier clothing they'd stored below. He held the ship steady, coaxed her as Anamaria had. _Pearl _might have been the fleetest vessel in the Caribbean, but at the moment she did not make a fine storm boat. Gibbs grappled with the ship as she tipped into a trough, water sloshing over the decks. "Bloody hell, Joshamee, hold her!"

"I'm _tryin_'!" 

"North winds sent hail, East winds we bewail!" Mr. Cotton's Parrot wailed. Gibbs pointed at the parrot.

"Someone stow that beast 'fore it's swept overboard!" 

Mr. Cotton sent the bird down the hatch, but not before it had gotten in one last proclaimation: "The sharper the blast, the sooner it's passed!" 

"I hate that bird," Anamaria muttered as she lent herself to the wheel. "D'ya think Cotton would notice if we opened the gunports whilst it was down there?"

"But then we'd never 'ear him say _shiver me timbers _again!" Gibbs stared up at the great wave before them that _Pearl _seemed about to plow into. "Hold to course, hold to course - hold on, Soledad!"

_Black Pearl _began to climb.

The storm slammed into Port Royal not an hour after _Relentless _had staggered into port, and Corwin Norrington found himself pleasantly amused as Weatherby Swann's wig blew right off his head and into the water, where it proceeded to drown among the wind-tossed boats. Any work that had begun on _Relentless _had ceased instantly as sailors ran for cover. He himself took shelter in his office, dropping hat and wig into a chair and then flopping into another one. Reaching over to his desk, he picked up a decanter and a glass, thought better of it, and left the glass where it was. 

Checking to be sure his office door was closed, he took a healthy swig straight from the decanter. _ Bloody hell, Corwin, a lovely match you've gotten yourself into this time. _ Deals with pirates! With _ Jack Sparrow! _ His head had pounded during the exchange on the _Black Pearl... _the pirate captain's merry dark eyes had looked him over, seen through his façade. Sparrow knew. He _knew! _He knew it was a game, a rouse. He knew Corwin had sacrificed a bit of his pride so that Elizabeth might stand a chance of rescue. 

_Elizabeth. My fault. _If he'd approached _Wickedry _differently, if he'd used the long chasers, if he'd_ insisted_ she stay inside... if only... if only... 

Elizabeth captured...

"Forgive me, 'Lizbeth," he said to the decanter. He had never called her by that name, of course; it had been an endearment he hoped she would bestow upon him herself. Whenever he dreamed of her, though - at night and during the day - she was Lizbeth. Liza. Lizzie?

No, she wasn't really a Lizzie.

"Commodore, sir?" His aid tapped gently on the door, and Corwin set the decanter down.

"Enter."

"Commodore, Lieutenant Macey sends his compliments and asks if you've done away with the last two?"

_Macey. _It was just as well he'd put away the decanter, for surely his fist would have crushed the delicate crystal. "I have not, Basil, and if it pleases the Lieutenant, I would not have him asking again."

"I understand, sir." _No, of course you don't, if you did you'd not be asking. _"He has captured two new men, and had hoped they might have separate cells--"

"No. They will go where they may fit. Order a roast sent to the cells below, I believe I'll take a meal there."

"Aye, Commodore. Welcome back, sir." Basil closed the door softly behind him, and Corwin massaged his forehead. His position now... what _was _his position now? Since he had taken hold of the fleet, the Governor's daughter had been kidnapped not once, but _twice _ by pirates; the infamous Jack Sparrow had slid under his nose more times than he cared to mention, and the mighty _Interceptor _had been lost. Only by luck did her near-sister _Relentless _escape the same fate.

And here he was, making deals and bargains with pirates. 

_Bloody hell. _

He stood up and followed the curving tunnels of Fort Charles to the cells beneath the fort - the cells that Macey wanted to clear out. The air down here smelled dank and vaguely rotten, and he could hear the surf pounding against the thick rock walls. It made for a gloomy little prison, one typically used more for storage than actual restraint. Since the _Black Pearl _incident, however, he had found a new set of occupants for it. 

The two pirates sat in cells directly opposite each other, crouching in relative darkness until Corwin came strolling in with a lantern. The shorter one stared at him with bared teeth while the one-eyed man cowered in the back. They were only known by their last names, but that was all Corwin needed.

"Pintel and Ragetti." He had not called upon them for quite some time now, and both were far dirtier and worn-looking than they had been. "You're looking well."

"'Allo, Commodore," the short one, Pintel, said. "Wot brings you to our... humble abode?"

"I thought I'd pay a visit to my favorite pirates, of course." Corwin sat down in the chair reserved for a guard and tilted it back so he could look at them both. "Quite a storm rolling out there." 

"I told ye it was stormin'," Ragetti mumbled. "Big stormin'."

"No one asked ye to be openin' yer mouth, one-eye." 

"Boys, boys." The alcohol and bickering pirates soothed his mind, and Corwin felt a smile curling up over his face. "What do you know of a man named Gerrarrd?"

"'E's _Wickedry_'s captain," Ragetti said. 

"Shut yer mouth! Why's the Commodore want t'know bout a silly lil' pirate named Gerrarrd?"

Corwin shrugged as both pirates suddenly began sniffing the air. "I've got a meal to share, and I'd hate for it to go to waste..." Basil carried the roast in and set it before him, placing the knife into his hand before departing. Pintel and Ragetti stared at the roast before staring at Corwin. "After all, we are reasonable men, are we not?"

"Thought you didn't deal with pirates."

"I try not to. I'd rather see you all dangling, to be certain, but even I know when something is necessary." He cut off a piece of the roast and placed it into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed. "Ah... bliss." 

Ragetti whimpered.

"Ragetti, son..." The one-eyed pirate had proven infinitely easier to work with time and again, and Corwin cut a thin slice of roast. "Tell me about Gerrarrd."

"'E's usin' ye, Rags!"

"But I'm so hungry..."

"You're not allied with him; what should it matter?" Corwin waved the roast in front of Ragetti's cell, and one thin hand snaked out of the bars to grab at it. He held it just out of reach, eyebrows arched. Waiting.

Ragetti caved in shamelessly. "He sails out of the Western islands. Doesn't think much for no one 'cept himself. We took 'im on once."

_Sails out of the Western islands. _Good. Corwin allowed Ragetti to snatch the meat and turned to Pintel as he wolfed it down. "You fought him? What happened?"

Pintel gave him a stony look. Corwin cut a slightly-thicker bit of meat and called over his shoulder, "Ragetti, how is it?"

"Oh, 'tis the best I've had! Mmm!" Ragetti licked his fingers and looked for more. Pintel wavered. 

"Stale... stalwart... studious..."

"Stalemate!"

"_I'm _talkin'! Stalemate... storm blew us apart. Barb--" Pintel stopped. Corwin dangled the meat.

"Barbossa... what did Barbossa say?"

"He called 'em... worthy adver-serries." 

Barbossa might have meant it jokingly - how worthy an adversary is _any _ship to a cursed vessel? Even so... Corwin handed Pintel the meat and watched him scarf it down. "We met Gerrarrd not a week ago."

Both pirates looked at him.

"The new ship _Relentless _ is badly-damaged due to a rudder shot." 

Pintel chuckled coarsely. "Ain't that a bleedin' shame?"

"Those that aid us in marking Gerrarrd might find themselves... oh, relieved of certain burdens." He cut three more slices of roast - these ones thick and juicy. Pintel and Ragetti's attention immediately shifted to the meat, and Corwin chose his next words carefully. "I dislike dealing with pirates, as you've noted before. But as I've noted before... a man must do what he must do." 

"An' what is it yer suggestin', Commodore?" Pintel asked the meat.

Corwin smiled. "I'm suggesting we have a pleasant meal down here, and discuss this interesting fellow called Gerrarrd. After all, there's far too much roast here for just me." 

_Wickedry _tipped drunkenly to starboard, and Elizabeth felt her stomach turn over. "Tell me we didn't bloody hit something."

Jack shoved the pisspot toward her with his boot. "You aren't going to _vomit_, are you?"

"_If _I choose to vomit, _ Captain _Sparrow, I will be certain to aim for your hat." 

"You keep your dirty retching off my hat, missy."

The ship lurched, and all three of the occupants in the tiny brig were sent rather gracelessly to the front of the brig - except for Jack, who was already there, and looking quite smug. "'Tis only a storm."

"A storm?"

Jack nodded. "Aye. Atmospheric disturbance. Many clouds in the sky, plenty of waves, ships tossed about, quite hazardous from time to time, a fair deal of dampness involved." 

"I remember my last storm at sea," Will said. The fondness in his voice rapidly gave way to gritted teeth. "While we were chasing your bloody _Black Pearl_... whom, I might add, has _not _shown up yet."

"Give her time, mate, give her time. You must never rush a lady."

Elizabeth reached for the pot. "Actually, I feel I might be getting a bit ill--" Her grasping hand was stayed as the ocean seemed to simply drop from the ship, and _Wickedry _gave a great shudder as she slammed back into it. "Dear God, was that--"

"Just plowing into a trough, love, nothing to it." Jack stood up and grasped the bars of the cage. Above them, the sound of running footsteps and howling sailors - and over that, the shrieking wind. The ship jerked again, and he smiled at nothing in particular. "Not a very good storm boat, then. That's good."

"Good?" Will sputtered. "Don't you _want _a ship to be a good storm-boat?"

"Not if a _better _ storm-boat is chasing after you." 

"What if said poor storm-boat sinks before other storm-boat can catch up, thereby drowning all occupants?"

Jack shrugged. "Then I expect you'll be floatin' somewhere with wings and a halo, lad, and not a care in the world. As for the rest o'us..."

Elizabeth put her head in her hands and tried to ignore the ship's heaving and the straining timbers of the hull. She had quite nearly dozed off when stomping footsteps signaled the arrival of the mate and the cook. "Leak's somewhere fo'ard," the cook said. Elizabeth opened one eye and saw the keys dangling from the mate's belt. _The keys_! Kicking Jack with her foot, she lurched up to her feet, grabbing the bars. "Mate! Something terrible has happened to Captain Sparrow!" Lowering her voice to a whisper, she jabbed her foot against his boot. "Quickly, do something, quiver with sickness, go insane with anger, lose your mind!" It was not necessary to point out that his mind was arguably quite lost. 

Jack barely managed to gawk at her before the mate turned around to stare. Jack swayed for a moment before dropping to the deck, curling into a fetal position. "Oh, the LIGHT! The LIGHT! DAMN MY EYES!" Will quickly scampered to the other side of the cell to avoid the now-thrashing limbs, eyes wide. Jack continued his show, pounding his fist against the deck like some great drunken, feral... pirate. "I am _quivering _with sickness, dammit! I've gone insane with anger!" 

The mate and the cook just stared.

_Captain, that was not quite what I had in mind. _Elizabeth turned away from the writhing captain and hoped she looked properly distressed. "Please! You must do something!"

"Oh, the _spirits have awakened! _THE SPIRITS!" Jack all but convulsed. 

"'E's got cabin fever!" The cook squawked. 

"Will you not _help him_?" Elizabeth wailed. 

The mate reached through the bars and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hush now, let's watch..."

_Oh, for the love of all that is... _Elizabeth gripped the shoulder of her dress and pushed it down as far as it would go. The eyes of the mate went to the bare flesh while the cook continued to stare at the rather peculiar Captain Sparrow. 

Will slunk up next to her, stretching his hand toward the bars. "Please, please make him stop..." 

"A pox!" Jack squawked. "A pox on this ship and all who sail her!"

"Aye- soundin' the ship! Scuse us, pretties." The mate and cook abruptly realized they had other business to be doing and hurried away. Jack stopped his thrashing instantly, propped his head up with his hand, and gave Elizabeth and Will his best _I'm Captain and Smarter Than You _look.

"Well, I hope you two are pleased."

"Very," Will said with a grin as he held up the purloined keys. 

The mate and the cook never knew what hit them, but other later saw a rather large - and somewhat dented - pisspot lying nearby.


	10. Port Royal Blues

Port Royal had never been the ideal place to be during fierce storms.

Corwin's office had been bleak enough during the seasonal hurricanes that battered the Caribbean. It was even bleaker now, as Weatherby Swann downed his third glass of brandy in an hour and slumped over in his chair. "If only I'd left her at _home_..."

It was also the third time he had said that particular line. Corwin had spent the first hour assuring the governor that Elizabeth's capture was _not _in fact his fault, but now he simply stared out the window and watched the storm raging around Fort Charles. "Perhaps." 

"Do you suppose they're dead?"

"I hope not."

"They should have ransomed her by now..."

"Governor, please. We've been over this before. Gerrarrd works by his own clock, to his own motives."

"Rather like Captain Sparrow, don't you think?" Swann belched. "Pardon me." Corwin had seen the man drink like this once before, the night Elizabeth had been taken. The bottle had been stowed away as soon as there had been a lead, and he had no doubt that Swann would rise as the occasion required and set aside the bloody drink. Until then, however - trapped in port with no leads and nowhere to go - the good Governor Swann would take his comfort from liquor. 

_If only we could all be so fortunate. _

Corwin sighed, pulled the decanter and glass away from the Governor. "I have it on good authority..." _ Good authority? You have it on Pintel and Ragetti's authority, how is that good authority? Oh... pirates, of course. _"...that Gerrarrd will likely find a use for your daughter, and..." He stopped when he realized Weatherby Swann had become more interested in picking lint off his jacket than listening. "I've been told the lands to the East hold more riches than a man can fancy."

"Very good, Commodore. I'm pleased you're on top of things."

Corwin smiled thinly. If the good Governor Swann had no intention of being a help rather than a hindrance - well, far be it from Corwin Norrington to force a man into something he didn't want. Repairs on _Relentless _might have been crawling along, but he still had _ Dauntless _ready to depart at a moment's notice - well, a moment's notice without the storm battering itself against the island. 

It would also help to know just where Gerrarrd and his _Wickedry _docked when they felt like returning home.

Pintel and Ragetti had been quite cooperative on most counts... except that one. Oh, they'd claimed ignorance, sworn it on everything from Barbossa's hat to their mothers' undergarments. Corwin had not encountered trouble from them before, and most of his mind argued that they had no reason to defend Gerrarrd, pirate or not.

The other part, the rational part - the Commodore - sneered. _ Pirates, always. _ Most of Barbossa's surviving crew had been hanged immediately - those that hadn't been set upon by angry sailors the moment they set foot ashore at Port Royal. Only Pintel and Ragetti had shown any kind of docile behavior... and he had been ready to hang them anyway, save Governor Swann's royal intervention. _Perhaps it would be best to hold onto a pair... for... questioning? _Corwin had glanced at the pair in the _ Dauntless_' brig, eyebrows lifting. _You could use a set of informants. _

Much as he hated to admit it, they had proved themselves more useful than he would have imagined possible. Their clipped sentences and cautious divergences were beginning to stretch bits of lace across the gaps between the chunks of information Corwin had already compiled, and it was through these catwalks that he now shimmied. 

_'E stopped off in Rudder Bay some_, Ragetti had confided when Pintel had said his part. _ But me's not knowin' if that were his permma-nint state o'residence._

Corwin looked down at the map he'd slapped on his desk and once more pinpointed the tiny settlement known as Rudder Bay. It lay between two larger islands, forgotten and largely-ignored by the major vessels - pirate and otherwise - that lumbered through the Caribbean. It simply had little to offer.

_It's perfect._

Absolutely, strikingly...

..._perfect._

"Has there been any word from the _Black Pearl_?" Sparrow would likely contact the Governor, rather than himself; it had been Swann who struck the fateful bargain, after all. The Governor shook his head.

"Nothing. Though you said yourself this storm would play havoc with our communication... the latest troops have not arrived from England..."

"So I did." _England? Since when has England..._ Corwin bowed his head to Swann. "If you'll excuse me, Governor, I have to discuss something with my officers. Do remain comfortable."

Swann was already reaching for the brandy as he shut the door.

Gillette and Macey snapped to attention the moment he entered the mess, though he waved off their salutes. "As you were."

"Commodore Norrington, I thought you were discussing a course of action with the Governor," Macey said. Corwin resisted the urge to pat the young man's head - Macey had only arrived two days before the Sparrow/Barbossa debacle, and he had yet to settle into the routines and eccentricities that plagued Port Royal and its leaders. He was still so... young and optimistic. _That's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen_, indeed. 

It made one's stomach turn sometimes.

"The Governor is... not himself." Corwin gave the sharp-tongued Gillette a stare warning him not to make any of his famous remarks. "Though I did learn a few things of interest via the lower channels. Strictly out of curiosity, what do either of you know about Rudder Bay?"

Macey shrugged. Gillette, however, looked thoughtful. "Little thing, isn't it? Out of the way."

"It seems Gerrarrd may have used it as a port in the past." 

Gillette stared at the ground as he tried to recall what he knew of it. "The town is... not much. There's a dock, some suppliers... but it's small. The bay itself is shallow, and the natives have some silly story about the dead coming out by the light of a half-moon." He paused, perhaps remembering the last time such a silly story had been batted around. "I suppose it's entirely possible Barbossa and his crew..."

_Pintel and Ragetti didn't say anything about having been there... _of course, he hadn't _asked _them; one did not gain valuable information from either of the two without a sustained verbal battle. "Lieutenant Macey, I've a question you may find peculiar, but I would appreciate an answer."

"Commodore?"

"Just what is the crown's interest level in the Caribbean?"

Macey gaped at him. "I--I was not privy to the--"

"In the opinion of yourself, of course."

Macey stopped his stammering. "Strictly speaking, sir, so long as the trade remains fairly steady they've other things to worry about. There's talk of... well, the King has issued a Declaration of Indulgence for--"

"--so what goes on in the Caribbean is of no great concern?"

The young lieutenant nodded. "Aye, sir... well... aye. I can't speak for the crown, but there are other matters they must concern themselves with." 

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Gentlemen, if you will permit me to excuse myself, there's something I need to look into." Corwin saluted both of them before striding out of the mess, well aware that the two of them would no doubt discuss the peculiar questioning as soon as he was out of earshot. Gossip went hand-in-hand with sailors, particularly those trapped in port with nowhere to go. 

Corwin Norrington, however, _ did _have somewhere to go - one last stop before purgatory.

"Weeeeeeeeell, if it isn't bein' the nice Commodore again," Pintel said as Corwin stopped before their respective cells. "I don't see any offerin's on ya this time, sir." 

"Did Barbossa _or _his crew ever have _anything _to do with Rudder Bay?"

"No," both men said when they saw the look on his face. 

Corwin's lips curled into a feral sneer. "Answer me something, Ragetti, and answer it well if you wish to see tomorrow. The pirate Gerrarrd, what was his contact level with those outside the Caribbean?"

Ragetti curled up into a ball, his fingers squeezing into shaking fists. "I--I--" He kept looking at Pintel. Corwin slammed his hand against the side of the wall and moved closer to block his view.

"Ragetti, _TALK!_"

One did not become a successful officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy without some form of highly-evolved intimidation tactics. Ragetti - starving and jailed - gave in. "I don't know sir, please don't be beatin' me, 'E always had a man in port, to tell him--to tell him things!"

Corwin looked over his shoulder at Pintel, but the stout pirate seemed as surprised to hear the news as he was. "Something to say, Pintel?"

"'Ow'd ye know all this nonsense?"

"I talked wif' a man when we was trompin' through--"

"You went _talkin' _to strange folk?!"

Ragetti cringed. "I's sorry, Pintel, 'tweren't nothin' but a quiet word or--"

"I thought t'would be I could be trustin' ye, Rag..."

"Ye can trust _me_, Pintel! It were just a quiet talk!"

"_Ragetti_," Corwin said, "are you _certain _of this information? If it's wrong, so help me, you'll swing."

"I swear it t'be true, swear it on me eye! Me good eye! Don't be hangin' me!"

"Thank you, gentlemen." Corwin left them there in their dark little cells, Pintel's roaring and Ragetti's cowed pleading carrying up through the winding corridors of Fort Charles.

Ragetti may have gotten himself yet another reprieve. But if his information was correct...

"If I'm right..." Corwin mumbled aloud. "That means..." 

He stopped in the corridor and stared at the stone floor, worn smooth by countless pairs of boots. It was a wild theory, a foolish one. 

One that might actually be correct, if his luck continued as it had recently. 

_Capture a person of wealth, take the money, and put together something... something... _the thought drifted away before he could grasp it, but he knew it was there - knew it by the sour taste in his mouth, knew it as he looked over his shoulder as though something watched him from the shadows. 

But how could Gerrarrd have known about _Relentless_?

Weatherby Swann opened one eye when the book dropped, and another when the Commodore hustled him out of his chair. "Oh... my head... how long have I been asleep for... Commodore, what _ are _you doing?"

"Arming you." He had pressed a rather impressive-looking sword into Weatherby's hands. "I'm posting double shifts of guards, and--"

"What is the meaning of all this?"

"When the ransom note comes from Gerrarrd - I beg of you, Governor, do _not _acquiesce to his wishes." 

His jaw dropped. "But Elizabeth--"

"--is, I fear, part of a far larger plan that your money will undoubtedly be financing if Gerrarrd gets his way. Governor... I am not entirely certain as to what is underfoot - but I know - I _know _something is not right. I ask that you give me one week, after this bloody storm blows itself out - one week - and I will take _Dauntless _ and get to the bottom of this." 

Weatherby could only nod, baffled. The sword the Commodore had deposited into his hands was well-balanced; probably one of Turner's newer blades. His brain still slightly clouded from the nap and the previous alcohol, he saluted the younger man with the swordtip. 

The Commodore ran out of the room.

Sword in-hand, Weatherby reached for another brandy, only to find the decanter drained. 

"Oh, bloody hell." 

The Commodore ran back in. "And Governor--"

"Yes, what now?"

"Speak not of this to anyone." Commodore Norrington shifted from side to side, as though wondering just how much to tell him. "I've reason to believe there's a traitor in our midst."

And then he was gone again. 

Weatherby stifled a groan. _First pirates... now traitors. What else could go wrong? No, Weatherby, don't think that, you'll jinx yourself._

The Commodore ran back in, startling Weatherby into dropping his sword. "One more thing, Governor."

"Yes?" 

"You were quite right about keeping on the pirate pair. They've been... invariably useful." The Commodore inclined his head. "My compliments to you for thinking of it." 

"You're welcome," Weatherby said. 

With that, Commodore Corwin Norrington ran off to wherever it was he intended to go, and this time he did not come back. 

Weatherby sank back into his chair. 

Traitors. 

A traitor... 

"By the spirits, Sparrow, if you don't bring my daughter back safe..." 

He closed his eyes again, but this time he folded his hands together. _Please, let her be safe... let... all of them... be safe. _

_(Hi guys! I apologize for the lack of updates, but we've been having cable modem issues that seem to converge as soon as I try to use the internet for anything meaningful. I have 11 ready to go after this, and hopefully 12 stop fighting me and be written. I must say - you guys are amazing reviewers! I want to thank you for your support. I am going to continue this story and I hope we all have a good time on the ride. May the Force be with us!_

_UPDATE 8/16 - 'real' version uploaded - apparently I had two ch10 files. Who knew?) _


	11. Misadventures and Memories

_(This chapter was originally written as a one-shot, dialogue-only scene - mostly for comedic purposes. I think it retains the comedic aspects nicely, but I decided to give it some more substance... and viola, three additional scenes! Consider it my gift to you, on my birthday. Do be warned... things get a bit more serious after the first bit.) _

A rather sarcastic remark made by one William Turner the Second earned the little island the dubious honor of being called Will's Bloody Isle. 

It had no inhabitants, though a pair of rain-drenched birds watched from their nest in the treeline as three sodden and thoroughly disgruntled-looking individuals staggered out of the water and onto the beach, each carrying an armload of something. The taller of the two men turned around to face the plunging vessel that had heaved-to just outside the cove, shielding his eyes from the lashing wind. Seeing no discernable motion aboard, he turned to the other man, who had taken to dumping water off his hat. 

"Why couldn't we have taken the bloody _boat_?"

The man set the hat back on his head and smiled patiently. "Because, Mr. Turner, if we _ had _taken the bloody _boat_, they'd know all the sooner of our little indiscretion, and they'd be after us _disturbingly _quickly."

"You could have _told _us we had to jump," the first man said. 

"And spoil the surprise? _Pfft_."

"Some of us prefer _leaping _ to being _shoved_, Captain." 

"I feel like a drowned rat!" The woman stared down at her dress, which had taken more of a beating than it had ever been designed for. 

The captain swept off his hat and bowed to her. "You make a very fetching drowned rat, m'lady."

"Sod off."

"Such language!" Fingers fluttered against a sopping shirt. 

The first man saw an opportunity. "He enjoyed it, too, I saw him smiling."

"Captain?" The woman straightened, gazed at him thoughtfully as he turned around. 

"Aye?" Eyebrows lifted, prepared to answer any question. 

_SWISH. _

"Ha! You missed!" One would have thought the captain had just stumbled upon a horde of swag by the note of triumph in his voice. 

_CRACK._

The pile of swag vanished, and he rubbed his cheek most thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I deserved that..."

The first man sighed as though he'd heard this all before. "If you two will stop fighting for a--"

A ring-clad finger pointed at the woman as they trudged along. "She started it."

Not to be outdone, the woman pointed right back at the captain. "He pushed me off the ship!"

"--what _are _we going to do when they inevitably discover we're not there?" The first man asked, perhaps hoping to steer them back to useful conversation. 

The captain nodded importantly. "The treeline is safest. We'll find a place to hide. They won't be coming ashore for awhile, any boats will be smashed to bits against the ship. Aye, lad and lady, I _was _thinking of your bloody welfare."

"Wonder of wonders," the first man growled. 

"I heard that."

"Good."

The captain looked to the woman beseechingly. "Miss Swann, if you please, cuff him?"

"Don't be begging favors from _ me_, Captain."

He drew back, pressing his hands to his mouth. "Why, I don't believe I merit such a look of distaste. What might I do to appease the lady's distress?"

"Let me push _you _off a bloody ship!" Certainly, for all purposes, it was not an unreasonable request. 

"There'll be none of that. After all, I'm Captain--"

"Stop, you're making my head hurt." The three were right beneath the nest now, looking about with wary eyes. The tree offered some protection from the rain and wind, though surely not what they were hoping for. The birds peered down with interest. 

"Deepest apologies, Mr. Turner." The captain surveyed the area, cupping his hands about his ears for no apparent reason. After a moment he clapped his hands together, pointing at a dark hole not far away. "Aha, see? Shelter!"

The woman looked at it, unimpressed. "It's a cave."

"As I said: shelter! Bootstrap Whelp, go investigate."

"Why do _I _have to investigate?" 

"Because I'm the Captain." This declaration made with squared shoulders and hands upon hips, accented with an imperious stare. 

The first man peered dubiously into the void. "It's quite dark in there."

"Pfft! Nothing to worry about. Scoot along now." The captain dropped his voice. _"Impress the lady._" 

The lady in question gave them a cool look. "What are you whispering about?

"Nothing, Miss Swann, nothing. Step lively, Turner." 

"All right..." The first man procured a pistol from the armful of munitions he carried, dumped the rest on the ground, and ventured inside. The woman took the lull in motion to lean over again, examining the wreckage that currently encased her feet. 

"My shoes are disintegrating."

"Nothing to be done about it now, lass."

"Says the gentleman at fault."

The captain sent her a confused look. "How the devil am _I _ responsible for the poor construction of ladies' footwear?"

"You are." Her answer allowed no wriggle room. 

"Well I--" The captain was saved a protest as the first man returned from the cave, shrugging. 

"It _is_ a cave. Rather dark. But empty." 

The captain waggled a finger at his nose before depositing the weapons he carried into the man's hands. "Don't be grudging with _me_, lad. If it keeps the rain off our heads, it's a castle to me. In we go! But first--" He swooped in, gathering the woman up in his arms and lifting her easily off the ground. 

"_Eeek! _What are you doing?"

"Can't have the lady's feet hurting, now can we?" The captain began walking toward the cave, and the birds cocked their heads as the voices began to fade. 

"Put me down, you bloody pirate!" She kicked her legs, slapping at him. 

"Pipe down, love, they'll hear you. We pillage and plunder, and don't give a hoot--" None of her struggles seemed to faze the captain; indeed, he almost smiled. 

"Do you want me to carry her?" The first man looked on the budding brawl with more trepidation than interest. 

"I don't want to be carried!"

"No, I think being hauled about like plunder will keep her happy for a time, don't you?" The captain hefted her to carry her more easily, ducking into the cave. 

"Put me down, you scalawag, or I'll have your head!"

"Aye, that's the spirit!"

The first man's voice held a note of quiet wonder as he followed them into the cave. "How _did _you two survive each other on the island?"

The birds looked at each other. Certainly, life was about to get more interesting. 

Captain Ephraim Gerrarrd studied the empty brig with something close to amusement as his rather banged-up first mate and cook were roused with buckets of convenient seawater. _Wickedry _continued to lurch and dip as the waves and wind pounded her, but her anchors held fast to the bottom, and he had permitted the crew to use their time as they liked so long as the situation did not worsen. Currently, using that time entailed holding knives to the throats of the would-be jail guards.

"Anything to say for yeselves?" He asked, half-expecting a lively escape tale.

Dugald, at least, remained too thick to come up with a story. "Dunnae, sir, just came and hit us wi'somefin..." 

"Took pistol and cutlass as well, I see. And gave ye a lovely new fragrance." Apparently the merry trio had doused the mate and cook with the contents of the pisspot before beating them with it. Irritated as he was by their escape, Gerrarrd found he had to give them credit for creativity. "It suits ye. An' may I ask how 'tis they gained access to the keys?" Here, a story would not have been unexpected; Jack Sparrow was famed for his... intriguing methods of escape.

"Sparrow had a fit," the cook said, just as Dugald muttered "the girl were disrobin'." 

So they'd pulled a double, had they? "I see..."

The band of them looked up as Iagan returned with his search party, waterlogged boots squishing noisily against the deck. "There's no sign o'em sir, not one. We e'en checked the bilges." 

Gerrarrd bit back a growl. Sparrow's effects and a number of smaller weapons had been gone as well - gone from his _cabin - _bloody hell. They'd taken some of his clothing, to, though what they wanted with that was beyond him. "Wot 'bout the rigging, lads? They weren't clinging to the rigging?"

"Nay."

The boats were all present. That left only one rather dim option... the merry trio had gone overboard in hopes of reaching the island. Gerrarrd stomped out of the hold and up onto the main deck, leaning over the pitching rail to investigate the lay of the waves. If one timed it just right, he supposed one might be able to miss being smashed against _Wickedry _- but luck would need to be with them.

_Ah, and who be a captain to question the great Captain Jack Sparrow's luck? _Gerrarrd tried to see through the murk and mettle of the storm and pick them out on the beachfront, but gave that up shortly. He went back below, where one of the men had already put a nick in Dugald's throat. "Alright, lads, here be the plan. We'll wait out the storm here as we thought to. Once it blows i'self out, we'll be going to the island and see if Sparrow's luck held through the swim." 

"An' wot if it didna?"

"Then we'll be findin' bodies, won't we? A scrap o'clothing, aye? It changes none of our plans, mind yer tongues. E'en if they did reach the island, there's nowhere for 'em to go. No ship'll be makin' headway in this tussle." Gerrarrd's gaze settled on the mate and cook, who regarded him as stoically as men destined for death could. "Now, as fer yerselves, I'll be thankin' ye to be stayin' the night in the brig... while I..." _Word, what's a good word... _ "...ruminate on yer fates." 

He waited until the crew had locked the pair away before ushering them out. "There's to be no deaths either, not before my word! Be ye clear on those terms, dogs?"

"Aye, sir," a chorus of voices answered. Sometimes it was best to speak to the men on their own terms, with a voice they would not recognize as being superior - merely authoritative. Gerrarrd waited until nearly all had gone back to their positions before tugging Iagan aside. "Dugald botched th'job o'first mate handily, did 'e not, Iagan? Will ye be doin' the same?"

"No, sir," Iagan said.

"Good. Mind the crew and see my orders carried out." Gerrarrd looked scornfully at Dugald and the cook before heading to his quarters. "Rouse me if anythin' comes to pass." 

The cave would have been very nice if it had contained some sort of natural light source, or been conductive to an artificial one.

Making a campfire had been attempted the instant they got inside, but it had quickly been deemed a failure. The smoke had nowhere to go and before anyone could consider the ramifications of their act, they had stumbled out choking and cursing whoever invented fire. 

_That would be the Spanish_, Jack had said with his typical conviction. 

The cave had at last aired out, and now Will Turner found himself sitting cross-legged and leaning back against a rock wall that was infinitely harder than the smooth wood of _Wickedry_'s brig - and without the lantern that had given them a dim way to see one another. The only light here came from the crack in the great wall that led to a hallway of sorts, and the outdoors. Aside from that diffused bit of light from the front of the cave, he couldn't see his hand when it was right in front of his face - so how could he expect to see anything if it leaped out at him? Much to his unease, he had found a few bones in the mad scramble from the cave - old and dried, but bones nonetheless. Jack had examined them and tossed them aside with a yawn, declaring them to be animals of some sort. 

A quiet snore from the other side of the cave alerted him to Elizabeth's not-so-graceful presence; upon returning to the cave she'd presumably curled into a ball and finally dozed off. Will sighed, leaning his head back and twisting his neck about until he heard the vertebrae crack. "So she sleeps." 

"About bloody time." Jack still sounded like he'd just won a great sum of money. "Not much for adventure these days, is she?"

If he squinted, he could just make out the gleam of the pirate's eyes. "She's had a... difficult few months."

"Haven't we all?"

Will closed his eyes. If sleep was the only thing to be permitted to him in this dank little cave, surely he'd take it. He had nearly drifted off into a semi-peaceful slumber when...

_Click. _

His eyes opened into darkness.

_Click, click._

"Jack."

"Hmm?"

_Click click._

"What are you doing?"

"Oh." _Click. _ "I've got a hangnail." _Click click. _"William Turner... are you grinding your teeth?"

"Of course not," Will said through teeth that were indeed grinding.

"Yes, you are! Goodness, boy, if something's troubling you then _do _talk about it, when you leave such things inside, terrible things happen to your soul, terrible, awful, horrible types of--"

"We're trapped in a cave, in a hurricane, with Ephraim Gerrarrd docked just offshore, and you're _still.._." He waved a hand until he realized he'd been mimicking Jack in the pitch. "...you!" 

"What do you expect, lad?" The chuckle was dry, rasping. "I'm... wait for it... look lively... _ Captain Jack Sparrow_!" 

"Ah, didn't see that one coming. No, certainly not. So tell me, Captain Sparrow, have you titles to go along with that name?" Will asked, stifling a yawn.

"Oh, certainly. Savior to some, downfall to others, lovable scoundrel, chief of the--"

Across from him, Elizabeth groaned. "I should slap you. Both of you." 

Will glanced up at Elizabeth's latest proclamation, which came in the middle of darkness. He judged her to be not more than eight feet away, not far from where Jack had settled himself upon staking his claim. "Why would you slap _me_?"

"Because... it sounded good at the time." 

"If you two do not stop your loving bickering, I'll have to box your ears," Jack said. No, he was not far from Elizabeth at all; he'd have to watch out for a roving slap. Will stretched out and poked about with his foot, but could not quite reach either of them. That at least meant he was out of the way when it came to appendages lashing out at him - but what about hurled objects? Hmmm. Jack had ceremoniously dumped all of their pilfered weapons into a pile when they'd first arrived, on the grounds of letting them dry off - but Will couldn't seem to find them, no matter how hard he stretched.

"I wish I could see..."

"Damn my eyes," the pirate said absently.

A rumbling in his belly alerted him to a new problem. "I'm rather hungry, as well."

Elizabeth shifted. "Let's go hunting!"

Jack snickered. "And what do you know about hunting, young miss?" 

Will braced himself for the onslaught, but Elizabeth only sounded slightly irritated. "I'll have you know I accompanied my father on hunts." 

He couldn't resist. "In England." 

"Stop it, Mr. Turner, I'm trying to tell a story," she said to him in her sing-song voice, the one she had used when they were fourteen and she was chasing him around Port Royal with a rusty sword she'd found under the dock. _I'm a pirate and I'm going to get you! _she had hollered, slicing and dicing as well as any girl could - which was, in hindsight, sadly lamentable. Will had played along, pretending not to remember the attack on the _Cassandra _a scarce two years before. He'd even managed to console her when the lovely blade - rusted straight through - had shattered against a support. It had been for the best, of course. Her father would have killed him if he'd found out his precious daughter was playing _I'm a Pirate _with the blacksmith's apprentice. 

Will smiled at the memory. 

Further away, Jack seemed to find it all quite amusing. "Oh, my, whelp, you've been _Mr. Turner_-ed." 

Elizabeth chuckled along with him. "If you two... fine gentlemen... will excuse me, I'm going to take in some fresh air."

"There's a rather bad storm raging out there," Will objected.

"No, Will, I need some... _air._" 

"What the lady is trying to inform us, dear William, is that as we are no longer locked in a cage, she has no need to ask us to turn our backs... savvy?"

"Oh." Will was glad no one could see him turning red in the darkness. Elizabeth laughed quietly before gathering her skirts and moving toward the entry of the cave. He saw her face briefly as she entered the sliver of light that connected the entryway to their little room, but then she was gone. 

Will spent several dry-mouthed moments racking his brain for something to say. They had been in the cave for hours as far as he could tell - hours, and nothing to show of it save drier clothes and rumbling bellies. At least aboard _Wickedry _they'd been fed.

He did voice this thought to Jack, who snorted as politely as one can. "Look at that, you can find some good in a brig of a ship, can you? Will, you are most certainly your father's son... to a most irritating degree."

It felt strange to hear Jack's voice and not see the motions that always accompanied it. It felt stranger still to hear the captain speak of his father so casually... hadn't Bootstrap Bill left him to die on that island with the rest of them? Yet his voice had been amiable, as though he were discussing the weather. "Jack?"

"Aye."

"Will you tell me about my father?"

The question stilled him for a moment. "That depends, William, on whether or not you intend to skewer me if you hear something you don't like." He sounded as though he'd been expecting the question. 

"I can't see in the dark. Besides, you have your... things." Indeed, Jack had flatly refused to leave _ Wickedry _without his bloody effects. "Though I suppose I could smother you with my vest."

"Right then. Well. Your father. Yes. Good man. Good pirate..." Jack trailed off briefly. "Good friend. Taught me everything I know."

"Everything?" 

"Everything."

Will found he couldn't resist: "Did he say _savvy _often?"

Jack _tsked _him. "Now, lad, if you're not polite I simply won't tell the story, will I?"

Will composed himself and attempted to sound pious. "Forgive me. Please go on."

Jack did not tell him any one story, per se; instead he spoke of Bootstrap's thoughtfulness, his ability to turn a wrong situation into a right one. To be honest, Will preferred the straight facts to a story woven from memory and time. He did not want to learn of his father the pirate... he wanted to learn of his _father_, and Jack was happy to oblige. "A charmer, he was... much like meself, mind you. He talked often of you, y'know." 

"Did he?" Will's memories of his father were fleeting, though he recalled warm dark eyes and a coarse hand ruffling his hair. _Papa Papa watch me swim! _Fatherhad fished him out of the water once - no, not the ocean, a lake? - yes, a lake. Mother had laughed about it. He had left soon afterward, never to be seen again. 

"I think he tried t'instill some form of chivalry in me, seeing that you were not on hand to properly learn." Will imagined the captain making a face. "It haunts me to this day."

"Being chivalrous?" Will would never have connected that word with Captain Sparrow; it just didn't seem... decent.

"You know. Leaping from ships. Saving beautiful maidens. Breaking curses. Captaining the mightiest ship in the world. Def--" 

"Roping sea turtles?"

He heard Jack fumbling around, and a pebble abruptly bounced off his nose. "I tire of your interruptions, young sir, and in case you hadn't noticed, your beloved has yet to return from her... visit to the stables." 

_That's right... Elizabeth, where are you? _"I'll go get her, I guess..."

"Nah, boy, you'll end up being eaten by a sea serpent. I'll fetch the maid. I've an idea of what she's up to. When we get back - we need t'determine just what to do when this opportune storm decides it's helped us enough. And maybe while I'm at it I can find us all a bit of rum..." 

The actual _taking air _had only lasted a few minutes, and Elizabeth had stood under the rain afterwards, making a vague effort to let the water wash away her tears, her sleepiness, her sins. 

The hand landed on her shoulder with far too much assurance to be Will, though she held out a slim hope until Jack's voice rang into her ears. "It's rather wet out here, miss, if you'll come back inside. Your swain fears you'll fall ill. Did you happen upon any rum?" 

She didn't even dignify his question with a response. "Then let the swain come get me himself, if he cares so much."

"Death by rain is hardly a way to prove a point, now is it Miss Swann?"

She spun around, water cascading from her poor soaked hair. "You imply that I do this to prove a point?"

"You imply that you do not? Clearly our darling Will, gentle soul that he is, fears speaking to you at all, and you believe it will take a drastic act to bring him out of his shell, so to speak..." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Now, it all started for _us _when you fell off that tower, aye? So once Gerrarrd and his _Winifred _or whatever her name may be sail off into the big blue, may I gently suggest falling off the nearest cliff whilst I am not available to rescue your bonny self?" 

The really disgusting thing about all of this was that Captain I'm-So-Wonderful Sparrow was quite right about her intentions. Not that she would ever admit it. "You think you're so clever."

"You are incorrect, madam. I _know _I'm so clever." Jack leaned away from her, bright smile still firmly carved into his features. "Intending to slap me again?"

The thought hadn't even occurred to her, but now that he mentioned it - well, it was quite a viable option. Tempting, too... but then, she'd already given him two when she first saw him, plus the third on the beach. Elizabeth stayed her hand and settled for glaring at him. "Do you know what it's like to have the one that claims undying love for you to be afraid to _touch _you?"

She cursed herself for speaking the words almost as soon as they were out in the open. Why _was _it that she ended up spilling her heart at the most inopportune moments? Jack blinked at her, and water dripped from his hat onto his boots. Clearly, affairs of a serious nature were rather out of his realm of thought. And damn it all, once Elizabeth Swann started something, she couldn't stop. 

"There have been times, Captain Sparrow, when all I wanted was his hands on me, and no matter how hard I tried - no matter - he would chuckle, turn away. Before, I could do without, but now..." 

Dark eyes grew wide. "I _knew _it! The boy's a bloody eunuch!"

This time she _did _slap him, and she slapped him hard. When Jack turned back to her, he put a finger directly in her face. "That's the fourth time you've struck me, young missy, and if you keep this up you'll soon be competing for the record. If you want to slap someone, slap your bloody Turner whelp, as he's the one fool enough not to take what's offered."

The rise of anger gave way to nothing more than dull resignation. "I care for him. But he... he doesn't..."

"Stir your passions, love? Awaken things inside you that you wish would stay asleep?" Jack waved his hands about for additional dramatic flair, but looked at her with eyes that abruptly became a bit too knowing for comfort. 

She hardened her stare. "He doesn't wish to harm my honor."

Jack laughed so hard she was afraid he'd keel over. "Well, not bloody much to worry about on that end, is there?" He leaped out of the way when her hand approached, and he caught her wrist tightly. "No more of that, missy. I meant only that... he needn't worry about such things anymore."

She stared at him. "You've spoken to him." The words quivered. 

He barely inclined his head. "So I have."

"_Why_?"

"He asked me."

_You bastard, you pirate, you fool, of course you speak of your conquests, don't you? Don't you? How I could trust you, how I could believe you, silly, stupid girl, Elizabeth... _"He asked you so you - _told _him?" She could not keep the horror from her face or her voice, nor could she stop herself from imagining what must have gone through Will's head. _ I must go to him, I must tell him it was the rum, always the rum, the bloody rum... _

Jack smiled at her. "He asked me about his father." When she stared at him incredulously, he shook his head and sent water flying. "Your mind moves too quickly, Miss Swann, and I daresay you've got a bit of a guilty conscious. I said nothing of what you're doubtlessly contemplating at this very moment... you swore me to silence, did you not?" When she continued to stare at him, he sighed. "Elizabeth, dear, you've refined your dark stare to a rare art. Certainly you can practice it on someone else." 

She had to get away from him. Now. "I'm going back inside." She picked up her sodden skirt and began trudging back to the cave, but Jack's hand on her wrist did not go away. "Let me go."

"Don't be telling the lad anything you'll come to regret, love." He had possessed that look on his face before. Not long before. Not long at all...

_This must stop. _

She looked at him through dripping hair and clammy skin, and realized he still had not released her wrist. "I regret nothing." When still he did not release her, she gazed right into his eyes, her words sharpening. "_Nothing._"

He let her go.

_(Re: use of the word 'scalawag' - I have seen it used as both scalawag and scallywag, and both terms pop up at dictionary.com. And yes... this fic is going along under the pretense that ** something **happened during the Infamous Island Vacation... just in case you couldn't tell. =D) _


	12. Fear and Loathing on Will's Bloody Isle

_The dream is always the same._

He is standing on a beach, watching two people dance around a bonfire. He knows this part of the dream, and always smiles. Elizabeth told him about this, told him about singing and dancing and rum and fire. His mind recreates it down to the droplets of sweat that coat his beloved's skin, the way the fire reflects from her eyes as she dances and spins and revels in the beauty of the night. He loves to look at her, and for awhile, it seems the dream is tailored simply to let him admire and worship the creature that is Elizabeth Swann.

As of late, the dream has taken on a cast he does not like. Eyes that have seen more than his own look upon Elizabeth dancing in the light, and they see her as Will does. The bright gleam in them grows brighter still, and he sees the glimmer of intention. "This is **my** dream," he says aloud, but his voice is carried away on the wind. 

The eyes close as their owner slumps back, taken by the rum. Elizabeth gazes out to sea. She told him this, as well, and he relaxes now that the threat is gone. He acts as observer in the scene that has been recreated in his mind; she does not seem to see him, or hear him, and that suits him fine. He has spent nearly half a lifetime just watching her from a distance, and this is nothing new. He loves to watch her look at the sea and the stars, as she turns the bottle of rum over in her hands.

This is where the dream starts to go bad.

The eyes open again. A hand drifts down Elizabeth's arm. It is a hand well-used to ships, the sea, women... and its touch is something Elizabeth is not entirely willing to forego. She leans down. The dance begins. 

"Why?"

The question is not answered, or even acknowledged. 

He has prided himself on maintaining a sense of propriety throughout his life, always looking away when couples began the dance of lust. He knows what it entails, he's relatively certain he'll one day be happy to revel in it. Here, however, the rules have been broken. He tries to look away and cannot. He watches in silent horror and abject wonder as a man places hands upon what he always silently wished to be his - his alone. There is nothing save the sweat and the cries and all that he cannot bear to watch. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it to be a dream - nay, a nightmare - a falsehood, a poisonous mixture of his anxieties and emotions brought on by the sudden change in scenery and company. Barbossa and his monkey waltz in the background and Norrington duels with a spoon overhead, but the couple on the sand take no heed in the surroundings. They are intent on only each other, and how much they can take before the night gives way to sunshine. Try as he might, he cannot get their attention.

So he watches, and waits, and remembers.

The dream is always the same. 

Castaways - Day Four 

"Are you all right, Will?" Elizabeth ran her fingers over the bags beneath his eyes, and William tore himself away from the previous night's... recollections. Five times he had awakened that night, and five times the dream had started over again - ever since landing on the island. He forced a smile. 

"I'm fine." Her light touch continued, but she would likely not rest until he gave her a plausible answer. "I haven't been sleeping well." 

"Hmm." She felt his forehead, shrugged. "Maybe I should take over cooking duties. I'm relatively certain Mr. Sparrow is putting something into our suppers to make us toss and turn." 

She was really quite fortunate the aforementioned Sparrow wasn't there to correct her about his title. In the three days since the storm had broken, he had kept them moving constantly - _no point in making it easy for Gerrarrd, mates_. Will had found out - rather to his chagrin - that the island was quite a bit larger than he'd initially imagined, and he judged them to be nearing the far west side of it. It might have all seemed like an overblown exploration mission if the good captain hadn't wandered off every so often to check the bearings, as he called it. Will secretly thought he was going off to tease the animals that they had seen loitering about.

He reclined against a tree, massaging the new bruise that had begun developing on his hand. One of the blasted birds that seemed to have been tailing them had nearly landed on his head earlier that morning, and in his attempt to swat it off he'd nailed the hand quite nicely against a rock outcropping. Really, his luck this past week and a half had been amongst the worst of his life. 

Still, it's not quite as bad as being held over that chest of gold with Barbossa and the knife. Nothing will equal that. He took some comfort in the fact that things hadn't descended to the level of the all-time low.

Elizabeth crouched, rolling up the pants of her trousers once again. She'd changed into the clothing they'd stolen from Gerrarrd's cabin as soon as the items had been reasonably dry, but the entire getup proved to be far too large for her. She slogged along as best she could, striking poses when she thought he was looking - but Will thought she resembled one of the homeless, crippled old sailors that he'd often run into while carrying Mr. Brown's works out to their new owners. 

She caught him looking at her, lips twitching as the amused glint in his eye. "What?"

"That's a lovely hairstyle on you."

Elizabeth made a face at him. "I know it's a rat's nest. I don't have a brush." Much to his surprise, she ambled over to him, stepping carefully in her nearly-destroyed shoes. She leaned lightly against his chest, lacing her right hand through his left. "As soon as we're back home, I'm going to take a long, hot bath..."

"Hmm... that sounds good..." Will licked his cracked lips and tried to smile at her. There had been a time when he had longed for a moment like this: just his lady and himself and nothing else in the world... she had never made a move toward him. Not once in the eight years he had known her had she done such things. Only after Barbossa's demise, only after the return to Port Royal and all that he held dear... only after those things had she sought to touch him, to do things he had always assumed would be reserved for the marriage bed.

Her smile became slightly wicked, and Will ran his free hand against her cheek (running it through her hair would have been his first option, but he'd seen the knots and didn't wish to press his luck). _ Not that I'm really complaining..._

"You looked a little bored, William," she whispered. "Fancy a wee--" 

Will put a stop to her words with his lips, the hand that had been on her face dropping to her waist to pull her closer. Tarnished though her beauty may have been at the moment, she still felt lovely pressed against him; lovely and wonderful and _right_. This was the woman he had chased the undead after for; this was the woman he would give up his life for. _Elizabeth Swann... _

Itwas an odd moment for him to realize he still knew so very little about her. 

He had no idea how she managed to switch their positions; he only pulled away from her briefly when he no longer felt the tree at his back. She looked at him quizzically when he raised an eyebrow. "What? I saw it once... it looked like fun."

"Where'd you see anything like this?"

"At the docks, of course." 

She had used those over-wide eyes before, convincing her father that it hadn't been Will who had set the dining room table on fire when they were fifteen. Governor Swann had not only believed he hadn't done it, he'd also put a warrant out for the tongueless, scruffy old pirate with the bird that apparently _had_. God help Cotton if he ever went ashore in Port Royal. 

"You're a strange girl, Elizabeth."

She smiled.

The quite obvious thing to do was kiss her, and of course he did so. 

Shortly thereafter he was doing quite a bit more than that, and with Elizabeth's help, his hands were visiting areas they had never even dreamed of going near. His day had just gotten quite a bit better...

"Oh, bloody _hell_, mates, not in front of the pirate!"

Until just that moment.

Will spun away from Elizabeth, gaping at Jack. The captain perched jauntily on a rock and looked as though he'd just sprung up - but who knew how long he'd been watching? Will hurriedly re-buttoned his shirt and attempted to stare most indignantly - though it turned into nothing more than a horrified grimace. "Don't you usually make some _ noise_?"

"I made plenty of noise. You two were simply far too involved in your... conversation? to notice me." Jack grinned at him and winked, then looked beyond to Elizabeth. "You might want to do up that last button on the trousers, love."

"Why would I want to do that?" Elizabeth asked. She leaned against Will's arm, and he awkwardly set it around her shoulders. "Did you find your purpose this time, Captain Sparrow?"

"Oh, I learned a few things." He hopped down from the rock, swaggering over. "Captain Gerrarrd is feeling very unhappy," he said, adjusting his hat. Will and Elizabeth exchanged glances. 

"Did you see him?" Elizabeth asked. "How close were you?"

Jack tugged one of his pistols loose from his belt and admired it. "I could hear him feeling very unhappy from quite a distance away. I might suggest moving along, so that we can continue hearing his unhappiness from a safe distance."

"Is it interesting?" Will released Elizabeth and began gathering up his allotted stash: a pair of pistols, a sword, the remains of the four-legged beast they'd been gnawing on for the last day. Elizabeth picked up her share of the goods and joined him in following Jack through the underbrush, muttering obscene words under her breath as her oversized trousers caught on bushes and logs and sometimes her own feet.

"Well, lad, that depends on what you believe is 'interesting.' If ordering half his crew to scour the island and follow every trail and track they come across, then certainly it's interesting." 

"They'll be on us in no time," Will mumbled. Jack swung around, eyebrows artfully arched.

"Come come! They'll not be catching us! After all, I'm--"

"Don't even _say _it."

"--an expert escape artist!" Jack grinned at him. 

"Rather loud for an expert escape artist," Elizabeth said. Jack blinked at her, turned around, and began leading the way again in relative silence. 

Will hid a smile.

There would be no fire that night. They huddled together in a patch of shrubs, attempting to eat what remained of the meat. At least someone had thought to cook it before setting out. It had probably been Jack. He was always an obnoxious pair of steps ahead of them.

Elizabeth curled into a ball and wished for arms around her. Will's arms would be preferable, of course; blacksmith hands _did _mean blacksmith strength. Still, her father's arms would suffice - he had always been comforting. Corwin, maybe, if he could keep his mouth shut about sappy dreams and the newest ship of the line. Perhaps even Jack.

The pirate caught her looking at him and smiled crookedly. 

Perhaps not.

Jack did have strong arms, though.

Yes.

Very strong.

They made no sound. Every crunch of leaves, every animal that made its way through the night sent her heart pounding, certain that Gerrarrd would peer over their little nest and smile broadly. _Ahh, what've we here, mates? _Back they would go to the brig, or to Davey Jones' Locker, or worse - to beds.

Not far away, Will sighed and cut loose with a long, rattling snore. Her head whipped around in alarm, and she could see Jack leap at him from the corner of her eye and pinch the man's nose shut. Will made a grunting sound, smacked his lips a few times, then settled back into quiet sleep. Elizabeth felt a mild twinge of jealousy; _he _slept so bloody easily. She banished the thought instantly - he deserved it more than any of them, what with the way he'd been staggering about. He kept silent vigil at night so the others might sleep, and now he had earned his respite.

Her warm feelings settled uneasily as Jack plunked down right next to her. She pushed herself up onto her elbow to look at him, then jerked her head toward Will. _What if he does it again? _She mouthed, hoping he could see her face in the starlight better than she could see his.

He shrugged. 

Oh. That helped.

Jack poked her side. 

She stared at the finger. Certainly he had not had a _reason _to poke her. 

She poked him back.

He caught her hand in his and shook a finger at her, _nyah nyah nyah! _Pouting, she tried to pull free but found that the captain was not quite through with his fun. She could feel his calloused palm against her knuckles and felt her lips turning up when she saw his triumphant grin. 

"Why?" Will asked aloud. He sounded troubled. _ What dreams plague him?_

She blinked. Why, indeed? She tugged harder, but Jack's grip only tightened. So he wasn't through with his little game. Fine. It made no difference to her. It made no difference at all. She sighed, and heard him chuckle faintly as he released her. There, that would be it. He'd gotten bored... 

A finger ran down her cheek... then a hand. 

Elizabeth was not entirely certain why she reacted the way she did, but her hand came up to cover his. The hand paused in its gentle stroking of her face, and she remembered - yes, _ remembered _- her body had taught itself to do this, to enjoy this... 

To want more. 

_NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! _

The bastard. Will slept not three feet away! 

"No," she whispered, unwilling to awaken Will. She dared not say more.

The pirate smiled again. Trying to have a bit of fun with her, was he? He wanted a reaction, no doubt. Just to see if he could get one. She would have to be careful not to give him that satisfaction. 

There were two of him, she decided. There was Jack: captain of the _Black Pearl_, fairly decent pirate, lover of rum and would-be playmate for herself and Will. He could make her laugh or make her scratch her head, and he could often convince her to down more liquor than was good for her.

Then there was the pirate. She supposed in theory she should have been pleased by this revelation; after all, hadn't she loved pirates since her sixth birthday? She had wanted nothing more than to be swept away on an adventure by a roguishly handsome pirate, and certainly she'd gotten that. But... _this _pirate? The pirate side of him did not particularly care if he made her uncomfortable, the pirate side saw her as money, as prestige, as means to an end. As a whore on a beach, drunk on rum and self-pity and emotions that would never be allowed to surface again.

Castaways - Day Five 

Will had not known that boars had it in for humanity.

It hadn't been his bloody fault. One moment he'd been poking about looking for a spring, and the next this great tusked... _thing _came barreling out of the underbrush at him, emitting a sound somewhere between a squeal and a roar. His sword had gotten stuck in his belt, and in the split second he had before it reached him, he decided that running very fast would be a prudent thing to do. 

It had chased him all the way back to the impromptu campsite, sent Jack up a tree and Elizabeth onto a rock, and continued zipping along at entirely too merry a pace while he scrambled around trying to evade its tusks. 

"This is terribly inconvenient," Jack called to him as the boar snagged his trouser leg. Will yanked free and attempted to get up the tree after him. "I think not, it's not going to hold _two _of us."

"Then get down here and _help me!_"Will yelped as the tusk grazed his exposed calf and abandoned the tree, aiming instead for Elizabeth's rock. She held out her hand to pull him aboard, and all would have been well if the boar hadn't decided his leg looked particularly tasty at that very moment. "_AAAUUUUGH!_"

He crashed to the ground a few feet from the rock and wheeled onto his back, hands groping for the sword tangled in his belt. "I... hate..."

_BANG._

The boar collapsed, and Will looked up into the eyes of a very amused Jack Sparrow. He blew lightly on the muzzle of his pistol, toeing the boar. "Pigs," he finished. "Big pig."

"It tried to eat me."

"But now _we _will be eating _it_..." Jack looked over his shoulder. 

"...unless Gerrarrd and his cutthroats hear that and come running for us," Elizabeth said. She had knelt beside Will, carefully pulling his torn pant leg away and examining the bite mark. He winced when she touched it, and the wince turned into an outright grimace when he saw the blood running down the side. "Unless that's what you wanted, _Captain_." She grasped one of the knives she'd managed to stuff into her bodice and began cutting a strip of her too-long trousers away. 

Jack reloaded his pistol and stuffed it into his belt, then planted his hands on his hips. "Now why would you think that, darling?"

"Captain Sparrow works for himself, does he not? How are we to know you aren't leading us right to Gerrarrd? Will, lift your leg."

"You don't want to be doing that, love." 

Elizabeth glared at him. "And why not?"

"You'll need to disinfect it, before it rots and turns green and falls off." 

"I see. Do you have anything to disinfect it _with_?" When Jack didn't move, she scoffed. "I see." She began binding the wound, and Will gritted his teeth. 

"Elizabeth... you don't really think... Jack would do that, do you?"

"I don't know what Jack would do, William. Nor do I at this point care to get into a debate about it--" She moved to help him to his feet, only to find herself staring down the tip of a blade. 

Jack's blade.

"Jack," Will gasped.

"_Captain Sparrow. _ You see this nice, sharp sword, Elizabeth? Move too quickly and it will be part of you, all right? Now let's get a few things into the clear, Miss Swann, shall we? For starters, I am not leading you _directly _to Captain Gerrarrd, because he is _that _way--" he pointed in the direction they had come "--and we are most certainly not headed there. Secondly, do you _really _think I am so crude as to strike a bargain with the likes of him?"

Will and Elizabeth glanced at each other uncertainly. 

"And thirdly, I know you've been putting on a brave front, which is really quite fetching on you, m'lady, but allow me to assuage your fears: I will get us off this island no worse for wear, aside from poor William's little love nip, and no one shall ever be the wiser as to our activities while stranded. Until we find ourselves rescued, however, your life is in my hands... so let's be polite, shall we?" 

The two of them stared at each other for so long, Will began to wonder if he'd been forgotten. "Ah, bleeding?"

"Your sword, Captain." 

Jack smiled cheerfully at her, sheathed his sword, and knelt on the ground beside them. "Hold the bandage open. Ah, William, lad, sorry to have to do this..." From one of his many pockets he pulled out a small flask, opening it and taking a sip. Will gaped at it.

"You didn't tell us you had any."

The captain clamped a hand over Will's mouth, then flashed a winning smile. "You didn't ask." He then promptly dumped about half the contents onto Will's leg.

It was a good thing he'd covered his mouth. 

They holed up on a clifftop that night, lying down underneath a lone tree. Jack wandered off early with a slice of the boar to roast in some secret location, leaving William to stare blankly at his bandaged leg while Elizabeth fretted over the dressing. She was always in motion now, adjusting the bandage, tapping her feet, wringing her hands. Every now and then she would lay her hand against his forehead, presumably to check for a fever.

Will closed his eyes when her constant fluttering made him dizzy. "I suppose when we get back I can always boast about my narrow escape from a raging pig." When he heard her start with the hand-wringing again, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Elizabeth, what is it? Why are you so angry with Jack?"

"He... he makes me nervous," she mumbled.

"Well, he makes me nervous, too... but he's a good man, Elizabeth. I trust him." 

"I know."

"Then why don't you?"

He opened his eyes and found her staring out beyond the cliff, at the sea he knew to be below it. "Because he's a pirate."

"But you've always adored pirates. You wanted to be one... you wanted _me _to be one. Or do you still?"

His light joke didn't touch her. "When one is faced with the reality of piracy, William, one can... change their mind. I loved the pirates of stories, the gallant men who would do the right thing but at the same time break every law ever written. There are not pirates like that."

"Jack is--"

"Jack is a good man, yes, but Jack is _not _a storybook pirate." 

Will closed his eyes again, and sleep came easier than he expected. With his hand secure in Elizabeth's, he had thought dreams would be soft and pleasant... dreams of fields, of shining swords, of a calm sea and maybe a ship gliding across it. He would not dream of a bonfire or unspeakable things. He would not. Would not...

Did. 

_Damn. I really can't win. _

"William." Elizabeth gently shook him awake, and the sky had faded from red to dull blue-gray. "You were whimpering."

_That damned dream again. _ He remembered every aspect of it. "Jack back?"

"No." The mention of the pirate's name sent her features to tightening again. Will squeezed her hand tightly.

"Elizabeth, I must ask you something."

"Yes?"

"I... I do not want you to become angry at me." 

Her expression became guarded. "What is it, Will?"

"I've had these dreams... this one dream, really... about you on the island..." He formed the words slowly, forcing each one out of his mouth. The more he said, the more she would doubt his trust - and their precarious new bond would slide toward the brink. "...with Jack... and... I... couldn't help but notice your... actions toward each other have been less than... friendly, and... I wondered... I thought... I don't know..."

She stared at him with unblinking eyes. What was behind those eyes? Rage? Fury? Disgust? Horror? "What is it you're trying to ask me, Mr. Turner?"

"I hate it when you call me that."

"William." 

Still not Will. That would be as much of a concession as she would make for him after the question he'd just asked. "I wonder if... if you... lay with him," he finished lamely.

Elizabeth continued to look at him, though she did not cast his hand aside as she feared he might. "You have this dream often?"

"Since we washed ashore. It... repeats." 

"You should have told me earlier," she said, looking down. "You worry so much, Will. About everything."

"It's not true, then?"

Her shoulders quivered for an instant, then she laughed. At least, he thought she laughed. "Of course not. He's a pirate! He's also dirty, smelly, rum-addled, and he wears more eye makeup than most tavern harlots."

"I look better in it, too," Jack's voice announced, and they looked over to spot him atop the rise. He sauntered over, dropping the newly-cooked boar slice into their laps. "Eat up, my children. Oh, and Miss Swann... it's charcoal, darling. For the sun. You should try it sometime, though. It would give you _lovely _ definition."

"Look, William, he also dispenses bad fashion advice."

Will decided to be thankful they were still bickering. If they were confident enough about their escape from Gerrarrd to fight, their luck was likely holding. 

Their luck ran out when the sky turned from indigo to gray.

Elizabeth awoke to the clicking of a gun, and she reached for Will's arm. Jack was nowhere to be seen, but she _did _find herself looking right into the charming smile of Ephraim Gerrarrd of the _Wickedry_. "Good morning, Miss Swann." 

"Jack," Will grunted, and the gun was suddenly pointed directly at him. 

"Your dear friend Pigeon really should cover your tracks better... Iagan learned from the best, you know. Now, let's get up and move, shall we? There's a number of things that need to be discussed, and I'd much rather be on _Wickedry_ than sitting here in the cold." Her head was swimming as she tried to wake up, but something... something was not quite right. Hadn't Gerrarrd said _ye _rather than _you_?

_We must all learn to play parts from time to time, if we are to survive in this world..._

Elizabeth shifted as quietly as she could, pinpointing the location of the knife she'd stuffed into her bodice. "I knew it. I knew... I knew he'd betray us."

Gerrarrd nodded. "Can't trust a pirate, can you? Up, dear girl, before you catch chill. You like rather nice in my clothing, I might add... almost good enough to... eat..." He ran his tongue exaggeratedly over his lips, and Elizabeth blanched, grasping Will's shoulder as she helped him to his feet. The man studied them as they got up. "You've hurt yourself, lad. What happened? Parting gift from Sparrow?"

"Jack wouldn't betray us," Will assured her. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. 

"Then where is he, lad?" Gerrarrd gestured broadly with his gun at the deserted campsite. Even Jack's effects were gone. "Here? There? Nowhere! You can't trust a pirate. You can't trust me, or Jack Sparrow, or any of the other scalawags that roam these seas... ever. You, miss, please stand away from him. I'll not have any well-coordinated attacks, thank ye very much." 

"He can't walk." Elizabeth pointed at Will's leg as she formulated a plan. "I think it's infected."

"Aha. Step back, if you please... thank you... Iagan, help the lad move. No silly plans here, hmm? I've got guns and you've got... my pants." 

Iagan, a tall redhead, pushed his blade against Will's belly as he roughly grasped his upper arm. Gerrarrd turned around to survey the path behind him, and in doing so Elizabeth could only scream one thing: "_OPPORTUNE MOMENT!_"

The knife slid from her bodice, tearing Gerrarrd's shirt as it did so. Elizabeth lunged at Iagan, blade outstretched and eyes wide. The man tried to turn with her blow, but the blade slid against his neck nonetheless, and she knew by the warmth over her hand that he bled. 

It gave Will the time he needed to fling the man aside and take his blade, lunging for the nearest individual. Elizabeth ducked the heavy fist headed her way and jammed the knife into something reasonably solid, and nearly wept with relief when she heard a pained grunt. There were too many of them, too many by far, and she heard pistols as they cocked. _By God I will go down fighting! _Gerrarrd would not have her. He _ would not. _

A hand clamped around her neck. 

He did.

"Bring Turner to the boat," the captain ordered. No, it was not Gerrarrd who grabbed her - it was another man, nearly holding her off the ground as she choked. _Is this what it's like to hang? Lucky Jack, you escaped it. _"Miss Swann, you delight me with your spirit, but disappoint me with your foolhardiness. I'm afraid you're a bit too much trouble to keep on what with everything else we've got on our plate at the moment."

The man grinned at her, began walking. He hadn't closed off her airway entirely, but his other fist clenched around her wrist. She did not let go of the knife. _No. It's mine, damn you! WILL! _But Will was being dragged away, fighting - always fighting, brave, sweet Will - but too late, too late for her... 

"Sorry to see you go, poppet," the man confided. "We could have had a lot o'fun, you and I."

"_Poppet?" _She bared her teeth at him. "You... called... me... _poppet!_"

And up came her foot, right into his groin.

He doubled over, releasing her knife hand.

She brought the blade down into his back. Freeing it, she twisted the hilt into his neck, feeling warm blood spill out onto her hands. The man gagged and staggered, and this time the knife _did _fall from her hand as he released her... into thin air.

Her life had never flashed before her eyes before, and it didn't now. She reached up instinctively, reaching to grasp something, anything to slow the fall, stop the inevitable. _Will, so sorry, for Jack..._ _I'm not ready to die! _

A rough, sea-worn hand caught hers, and she opened her eyes to stare into the dark ones she had seen so often in her dreams. 

"M'lady, I'm pleased you listened to my advice, but even dear William would_ not_ jumpoff _this _to save you," Jack Sparrow informed her.


	13. Oh, Crud: Part Deux

Sometimes, even Jack Sparrow had to question just how inauspicious his meetings with Elizabeth Swann were starting to get.

He could cope with the rescuing from the water. He could cope with the pirate sacrifice. But dangling off a cliff? Bloody hell, even _she _should have realized not to stab someone when she was being held over a very long drop. 

Jack hauled her up the side of the cliff, nearly hugging her as he peered over the side. "I know we discussed this scenario at length, but I never expected you to put it to _use_." 

She grabbed his arm. "Will!" 

"No, I'm Jack."

"No! _Help Will!" _She pointed toward the path that led down the cliff. "Gerrarrd has him!" 

He only wavered an instant. Save the whelp or collect payment on the girl? He yanked off his jacket and hat, shoving them at Elizabeth. "Keep these." 

And off he went, cursing himself for being a decent (if someone dishonest) man. 

Will squawked when they dumped him into the longboat. Gerrarrd immediately struck the man who had dropped him. "The lad's wounded, iffin' ye please, mind how ye handle him." 

"Elizabeth, not Elizabeth--" 

Gerrarrd smiled. "Oh, she'll be joinin' ye, laddie, no worries there. Luercke will put a bit o'a scare into her, and all will be well! Ah, Iagan! Ye gonna live, mate?"

The man Elizabeth had so viciously stabbed had blood trailing down his neck and shoulders, but he smiled nastily in response to Gerrarrd's query. "Nothin' some rum won't cure."

He felt the boat lifting in the water, and the motion made his head spin. Too much. Too much. He had to get off this boat. To Elizabeth. To Jack. Yes, Jack. He would wring his neck. Stupid pirate. 

Gerrarrd looked at something over his shoulder and grinned, picking up his pistol. "Sorry to do this to ye, laddie." With that, he cracked Will once on the head with it - and sent him spiraling off into darkness. 

When Jack saw the boat passing by overhead, he propelled himself off the bottom, latched onto the side, and nearly flew into Ephraim Gerrarrd's lap. 

It was only then that he decided this _may _not have been one of his better ideas. 

Gerrarrd twitched his nose. "I'm guessin' ye don't want us to be leavin' ye?"

"Actually, I was hoping to take the boy and run..." Jack spotted Will lying at the bottom, sleeping like a baby. "He picked a hell of a time to doze off." 

"He had a bit of assistance." Gerrarrd looked beyond him, back toward the island. "I take it my other man has been dealt with. The girl?"

Jack blinked at him innocently.

"Well, a damned shame, then. We'll have to make do without her."

"I see. Well, I'll just be taking the lad and--"

"Captain Sparrow..." Gerrarrd began, "...you are in a boat with me, five of my men, and my prisoner. Now, you can try to kill me if you like, but you know how this is going to end up, don't you? I'll give you a choice, out of respect to an old friend. You can hop off the boat and pretend we beat ye with oars, or we can do the actual beatin'. Tis up to you." 

The good captain had slipped back into proper English tones again, and by the looks of it, his crewmen were noticing. Jack debated this. The odds were against him, of course - but when weren't they? Gerrarrd wouldn't be buying into his tricks, either. He knew him well enough for that. Damn. "I suppose I'll be stepping out, then." 

"I thought you'd say that." Gerrarrd beckoned. "Come on, boy, over you go." 

"One thing." Jack patted Will's foot when it moved. "You see Captain Noble lately?"

He dove at Gerrarrd, reaching for the pistol in the man's lap. The captain yelped as his head cracked against the boat's bulwark, and Jack grinned as he pressed the gun against Gerrarrd's temple. "Oh, he's dead, isn't he? Silly me. Well, give him my regards and--"

He heard the oar in the split second before it connected with hs head. "Oh, wh--"

Elizabeth picked her way down from the cliff just in time to see them fling a body overboard. 

_Hmm, this doesn't taste very good... shouldn't fall asleep in rum, it's a terrible waste... _

Jack opened his eyes and immediately shut them against the sting of salt. His head throbbed, and something in his chest and nose burned. Burned? Was he on fire? He took a tentative breath....

...and nearly convulsed as more water flowed into his straining lungs. He snapped out of the fog and struck for the surface, wriggling and squirming. _Air. Need air. Need air more than rum. Swim Jack, swim dammit! _His fingers brushed against air. _Surface! Need air! _His hand broke through. Then his arm. Then his head. He sucked at the air, stopping his swimming altogether and nearly sinking again before he remembered to keep moving. _ Swim. Yes, swim. The tides. No, the beach! The beach! Get to the beach!_

_The girl's probably going to kill me... _

The beach stretched out, vast and endless before her. She ran to the shore as the remains of her shoes fell apart on the rough sand, running toward the figure staggering out of the water. 

The lone figure.

Jack collapsed as soon as he judged he'd reached sand, alternately panting and spitting up water. _Bloody hell, mate, you almost ran out of luck that time. _He was a strong swimmer, but the currents of Will's Bloody Island had blasted minds of their own. And Gerrarrd... Gerrarrd... 

Ephraim Gerrarrd had Turner's boy. 

_Bootstrap, I'm sorry._

"Jack! Jack!" A woman's voice, high and shrieking. Hysterical. Jack dragged his head off the sand long enough to stare up at her as she dropped to the ground beside him, grabbing his shoulder. "Oh, Jack, my God, I thought I'd lost you. Jack, Jack, are you all right, are you all right..." 

Considering she was almost-instinctively gathering him in her arms, he thought himself to be _ quite _all right in spite of the entire disturbing situation. Patting her hand weakly, he managed a smile. "I'll live, distressing as that must be to you..." He winced when she brushed against the lump on his head. "Watch me head, darling, he cracked me with the--"

"Where's Will?"

He pointed to the bay. Her gaze followed, and she dropped him back into the sand with a mild _thud. _"Ow..."

_Wickedry _gathered headway in the ocean breeze, pulling out of the bay... pulling away from them. He propped himself up onto his elbows and hitched as his lungs brought out even more seawater. Elizabeth walked slowly toward the water, her tangled hair whipping around her face. She stared at the ship, stared at it until Jack weakly got to his knees. "Gerrarrd caught him. He's alive... I think... I think I saw..."

She turned back to him, the horror clear on her face. "They have him... they have... my Will?"

_Flip remark, flip remark, where is my flip remark... _Where were his old defenses? The whole almost-dying thing must have shaken him more than he thought. "Gerrarrd has him. My effects. Where are they?" 

She pointed carelessly to a pile of clothing and weaponry before launching into the spiel he knew was coming. "We must go after them!"

Jack looked up and down the beach, then at himself, then at her. "And how are we to go about doing that?"

"With--with-- we can swim!" 

All right, it was the hysterics talking. Jack fell back onto the sand. "Feel free, m'lady, to swim after that boat with all your might. I'm in no shape for it."

By her silence, he thought she might well go and do that - until she clomped up next to him. "But the-- I need your help--"

"God's_ blood_, woman, he nearly drowned me out there." 

"I'm sorry Jack." The hysterical tone died a bit. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry, please Jack, _please_..." Well, maybe not. Her hands were on his forehead, his hands, his chest. It might have all been very pleasant if she hadn't been distraught. "I thought... oh, we can't be trapped _again_..." 

"At least this one's got plenty of hunting to go around..."

"Why did they go?" Elizabeth sounded much calmer now; if her bout of hysteria had passed, all the better. "Why... I thought he wanted all of us."

"He has his plans."

"Like you had your plans?"

Jack sat up and stared at her. "When one plan falls through, another must be set into place. Ephraim Gerrarrd thinks nearly as fast as I do, and thus his opportune moments are almost as regular. He doesn't need you for ransom money, Miss Swann; so long as your father doesn't know where you are, he has no choice but to believe our darling Ephraim still has you. And the money goes rolling out..." He made a gesture with his hand. "...out, and out, and Ephraim gets very rich."

Her eyes were sad enough to break hearts. Jack shrugged off the notion. Often, the truth hurt. 

When she didn't even bother _ denying _it, he knew he was in for a long night. When Elizabeth Swann stopped fighting, that meant two things: one, she was dead, or two - she'd been pushed beyond caring, beyond reason. The first one would be unfortunate. The second one was just _bad. _"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow. He wouldn't leave without his prize quarry."

He could only manage a fleeting smile. 

"You mean... he didn't..." 

He reached out, cupping her face in his hand as gently as he could. "Elizabeth, love... he did not expect me, but he made arrangements to keep me. He could just as soon get on without me."

_No. _Her mouth formed the words, but her voice did not come until a moment later. "But... Gibbs and the _ Pearl... _they'll come for us, won't they?" 

"Of course they will! Give them a bit of time, we'll make a signal fire, and all will be right with the world. Keep a weather eye out, right, Miss Swann?"

Her eyes began watering, and Jack looked around for somewhere to hide. _Damn you, woman, you are NOT going to start crying on me! _"But... but they're looking for _Wickedry_... how will they know..."

"_Pearl _knows her captain," he assured her. "She will find us, Elizabeth. We may have to survive for a time here, but she will find us." _ Assuming Anamaria doesn't sink her. I'm not even going to contemplate that._

"And William? What of William Turner, Jack? What of your friend's son?"

Damn, Will must have told her the entire story. That would make it all the more difficult... he settled for looking at her silently, letting her draw her own conclusion from his stare. Her eyes came dangerously close to running over, but she pushed the tears away, nodding harshly. She crawled closer to him, made herself very comfortable in his unwitting arms. "Hold me?"

Hadn't she said he smelled bad? Well, that was Elizabeth Swann's own bloody fault. She certainly didn't seem to mind it now, huddling against him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her forehead. "Aye, I'll do that, love." Poor girl was stuck in Gerrrard's clothing, after all. "I'll do that." 

**_Meanwhile, on the _ Dauntless...**

"...still no sign of..." Macey paused as Corwin held up his hand. He waited until Governor Swann had passed by to continue. "...Captain Sparrow or Miss Swann. If I may speak with you below, sir?"

Corwin followed him to the gun deck, eyebrows raised. Macey checked to be certain that none had followed him when he at last spoke again. "I do wish you'd come ashore, sir, because we ran into the most interesting man. Said he was of the _Black Pearl_ and called himself Gibbs."

"...and what did Gibbs say?"

"He said to meet him in a tavern." Macey cleared his throat nervously. "I apologize, sir, but I felt it might be prudent to acquiesce to his wishes." 

***

Thus, Corwin Norrington found himself hunched over a tankard of foul-tasting rum in a seedy-looking tavern on some blasted island in the middle of nowhere.

Splendid.

"'Allo, Commodore."

Anything to tear his eyes away from the rum. Corwin studied Gibbs for a few moments, trying to remember where he'd seen the man. The feeling of vague familiarity had tracked him since _Relentless _had left the _Black Pearl... _and now... "We've met before, haven't we?"

"'Tis bad luck to forget a face. Mark my words."

Corwin realized he remembered the man quite well. "Joshamee Gibbs... hell on water, why did you turn _pirate_?"

Gibbs waved a hand and sat beside him. "'Tis not a concern for ye right now, Commodore. Right now I come bearing most grievous news."

Oh, lovely. Simply _ lovely. _"I... can't wait to hear it."

Gibbs regarded him gravely. "We've lost Captain Sparrow."

"You _WHAT?!_" Corwin doubled over coughing to shield his outrage from prying eyes, and only after certain patrons had turned away did he stare at Gibbs fully. "You _lost your CAPTAIN?_ How the devil do you manage - oh, pardon me, it's Jack Sparrow. Of course. _Black Pearl._" He abruptly drained the tankard of rum, mostly because it seemed to be the right thing to do at that point.

"Now, Commodore... 'e got caught trying to find _your _lovey-dovey, Miss Swann. She escaped _ Wickedry_."

"She escaped? Elizabeth's safe?"

"She was, for a time. Jack took 'er to stay with a friend o'his till he could muster up a way to spring the boy. Before he could do that, it's been told Gerrarrd got 'em both... 'twas a double cross. Bad luck." 

Corwin took a moment to digest all of this. "And he has them still?"

"So far as we know. _ Pearl _tracked 'em as far as we could before that storm blew up. Where they be now is anyone's guess... but we'll hunt them down, Commodore, mark my words."

"Consider them marked." Hadn't he said that before? Eight years ago, wasn't it? Wonderful. Now he was repeating himself. He pushed the tankard away and balled his hand into a fist. "Gibbs, listen to me very carefully. I have been doing some... investigation... of my own, and I have learned that Captain Gerrarrd sails from the Western Isles. Does that mean anything to you?"

"...no, sir..."

"All right. I am taking _ Dauntless _to Rudder Bay in order to investi--"

"Rudder Bay?" Gibbs paled. "Commodore... the Captain and the Miss... Gerrarrd got 'em in Rudder Bay."

Corwin had to remind himself to close his mouth. "You _knew _about Rudder Bay?"

"Well, Jack did, and--"

He didn't hear the rest of the explanation. He could hear only his own thoughts, the screaming voice in the back of his head... _All for nothing. It was in vain. _ Pintel and Ragetti had not given him false information; they'd given him _old _information. He folded his hands tightly together, forced himself to think clearly. "Thank you for telling me this, Gibbs. It seems the _Dauntless _will have to ponder her next course..."

"Aye sir." The pirate regarded him. "We'll be tellin' ye sir, if we be finding anythin'." 

"Will you, now?"

"Aye sir. Soledad has a way of finding what needs to be found. Me compliments, sir, and thank ye for meeting me here." 

Gibbs slipped away to wherever the _Pearl _was docked, and Corwin was left to mull over his thoughts. 

**_So, Back on Will's Bloody Isle... _**

At least now they could eat without having to worry about someone seeing a fire. Jack stretched out in front of it, his coat tucked snugly around him. The girl hadn't said a word since curling up with him earlier, but at least she hadn't done anything crazy, like... keening. She spent most of her time alternately staring at the fire and staring out at the ocean. The coconuts he had gathered and dropped next to her had gone unnoticed. 

"That's the second time pirates have sailed away with him," she said. 

Uh-oh. Reflection time. "On the bright side, they won't be sacrificing him."

"This is my punishment, isn't it."

He would have scratched his head if he felt like moving. "For what?" The cold look she sent him would have made most fellows cringe. "Oh... that. No, probably not. Your life is simply destined to revolve around me_." Oh, bad move mate, now she's going to slap you. "_I mean... my sort. Pirates!" 

"Why did you come back?"

At least she hadn't slapped him.

"Reach into my jacket pocket... no, not that one... oh, my, how did that get in there? Other one... yes, that's it." Waterlogged but readable. Elizabeth carefully unfolded it, sitting next to him. Jack tensed, ready to move away from a fast-moving hand if he had to. "Please don't... set it on fire."

She replaced it, much to his relief. "So you're a privateer?"

"No. Not quite. That little thing... does not take effect until _after _you are safe in father's loving arms." 

When she spoke again, her voice had gone cold. "So that's why you came back for me."

"Yes... well, that's not entirely true... the money bit?"

"It isn't?" She gazed at him, dark eyes softening. She handed him a coconut. Kind girl, if a bit disturbing. 

"Your father's granted me a full pardon for bringing you back. I would've gotten some compensation, too, but Will was more of an add-on, y'see, he wanted a two-for-one and--"

She slapped him.

He blinked. "I don't think I deserved that. If you think I'd do this for free--"

She slapped him.

"Well, it's the _truth_."

She slapped him, and left him sitting on his bum in front of the fire. He picked up the coconut, addressing it directly. "I _may_ have deserved that." 

**_And Elsewhere, Sometime Later... _**

The bounty was a simple thing, really. The good Governor had taken a bit of convincing, but had eventually agreed to put forth the money required to undertake such an endeavor. It was a lovely sum... one that would make any man save a king wealthy beyond his dreams. It was a simple bounty, requiring the return of two individuals.

The only stipulation involved the two individuals being alive and relatively unharmed.

It was marked under the name of a Lord Chatterley. Few knew of him; fewer cared. All that was for certain was that he had some form of grudge against the notorious pirate Jack Sparrow and some lady-friend tagging along with him, and he'd pay handsomely to get them there in one piece. 

Money is money.

The hunters of the Caribbean began their search. 

_(My apologies if it's a bit disjointed. Part of it is intentional. As for the rest - much to cover in this chapter, much to set into place. Another one arriving soon. _

_Readers of George R.R. Martin's spectacular 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series might recognize Elizabeth's reaction..._

_Oh... for those concerned about dear William, please don't be. We'll get back to him quite soon._

_Anyone got a better title for this chapter? I was stumped. Winner receives full credit for it. Ta!_)


	14. Jack Sparrow, Island Hero?

Will stared at the platter of food in front of him. "I don't believe it." 

"No one said you had to believe it, son. That's just the way the men and I saw it. You can ask them, if you like." 

Captain Ephraim Gerrarrd sat across from him, legs propped up on the table as he nursed along a goblet of some liquid or another. He'd left Will's hands untied for the first time in days, watching him greedily scarf up the barely-adequate but somehow delicious fare usually enjoyed by the captain. Will kept an eye on him as he ate, but the captain hardly seemed concerned, lazily partaking in his drink. 

He straightened up over the meat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Undoubtedly you've instructed them in what to say."

"I've done no such thing... but thank you for the hint." Gerrarrd smiled genially at him. "Perhaps I can make use of it down the road."

Gerrarrd had not permitted him silverware, presumably because picking up a fork and stabbing him in the eye would have been entirely too plausible. Will shifted slightly and his leg seethed with the motion; _as if I could even begin to think about rushing him. _The wound had been treated and wrapped, but the infection had crept in despite Jack Sparrow's best efforts.

_Sparrow_. Will's hand clenched. At least Gerrarrd had the decency to stay on the side he started out on. "All right, Captain. You've taken care of my leg, fed me, and not killed me, and I still don't know why. I have no money, I have no wealthy relatives, I have no real talent--" _save smithing, and how could he know about that? _"--which leads me to wonder why, exactly, you want me here." 

Gerrarrd drew a dagger from his belt and examined it in the candlelight, flicking it this way and that before settling his gray stare on Will. "You really don't know, do you?"

"No. And why do you speak - _properly _- now?"

"I was brought up to be a proper English lad, just like you, Mr. Turner." Gerrarrd planted the dagger into the table and leaned forward. "The crew responds better to a man they think to be one of their own, and as such I play that part when required. However... it's just the two of us here, isn't it? I brought you here for a specific purpose... for an old friend."

_For an old friend. _ He wasn't sure whether he should be hopeful or horrified, and settled for suspicious. "You knew my father."

"That I did. Jack Sparrow knew him, too. But would Jack Sparrow _bring _you to him, I wonder?" At Will's incredulous stare, Gerrarrd broke into a genuine grin. "You were quite right about the ransom on your female companion. As for Sparrow; well, he works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? Myself, though... I'm not a complex man, Mr. Turner. Pirates rarely are. I want what I want and I tend to go after it, and damn all else that comes before it. But _you_... you are the one I wanted." 

"Because of my father."

"Aye, that's so." 

It became very quiet in the captain's cabin; Will could hear the flickering of candles and the groaning of the hull as _Wickedry _sailed on to her destination. "And you're bringing me to him. That's your only reason? You had to _kidnap _me to--"

"Please, lad, would you have gone along with me if I'd simply strolled up to you and said 'Mate, I know your father'? No, you wouldn't. Therefore drastic measures needed to be taken."

"And Elizabeth... what about Elizabeth...?"

"Pfft. I'm not going to turn down money where money is offered." 

"No, I mean _Elizabeth _is stuck on that island, and--"

"I've chartered a merchant vessel to pick her up, Mr. Turner. Your lovely ladyfriend is quite safe." A lock of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it impatiently away. "You don't believe me. I suppose I can't blame you. Allow me to offer you an accord then, if you will. When _Wickedry _reaches home, you'll meet your father. You'll listen to what he has to say. When your lady love arrives, I'll ransom her right back to father dearest and if you wish, you can go along with her." 

The captain's words were a bit too easy to ring entirely true. Will had never fallen in love with the stories of pirates as Elizabeth had; his only information regarding Ephraim Gerrarrd came from what he'd seen and heard himself, and what Jack Sparrow had told him.

And if Jack Sparrow had betrayed him...

_It's not like I'm going to be doing anything quickly on this leg anyway. _He nodded, more to himself then Gerrarrd. "All right, Captain, I'll... accompany you to... wherever we're going... where _are _we going?"

"Noble Bay."

"To Noble Bay, then. And I will see what it is you'd show me." 

Gerrarrd smiled and lifted his goblet up. "To worthy accords and old friends."

"To old friends," Will echoed, downing his own wine. 

He would remain cautious. He would listen and watch and learn.

And he would find out what cards Ephraim Gerrarrd had up his sleeve. 

Each morning, Elizabeth awoke to pristine waters and a bitter taste in her heart.

A week on an island with no company would make anybody melancholy. 

A week on an island with no company save a remarkably loud pirate would drive any woman to the brink of insanity. She supposed she was lucky she still felt anything. 

They had a routine now, for all the good it did them. Jack would venture out into the water three times a day and perform some peculiar dance that involved much stomping and hand-waving, and would occasionally land a fish or some other form of sealife on the beach for cooking. Elizabeth would check the fresh water stores, tidy up their haphazard shelter as best she could, and pine.

Pine for something she had so terribly wanted, yet at the same time... dreaded.

Her loving, gentle blacksmith was trapped. 

And so was she.

Trapped with a pirate. Not any pirate. A pirate she knew. A pirate she knew... rather well.

A pirate she knew far better than she or any other respectable woman should.

He had only brought it up once, thank God.

_"You remember what happened last time we were on an island alone together, doncha love?"_

"We agreed never to talk about that."

"No, we agreed never to talk about that to anyone else. There was no such accord about talking to each other about it."

"I see." 

"All and all, I found it to be a splendid little trip... until you burned the rum."

"Oh, dear, he's holding a grudge."

And that had been that.

At least Will had never known. 

_Will, _ she thought. _Will, Will, Will. _She had said the words aloud at first, until Jack began bopping her on the head for each time she said it. Unwilling to allow him to bruise her - however inadvertently - she settled for thinking them as she watched the ocean. He had escaped so many times before, surely he could escape this... he might come swimming up any moment, all smiles and slightly-mussed hair. _ Will, Will..._

"Time to go." Jack bopped her on the head once again as he sauntered past, and she lifted her head to follow him. 

"Go where?"

"There's a wee schooner anchored just over _there_," Jack gestured to the cove, "and we need to meet that boat and get our merry selves _off _this island so that we may live another day."

_Escape. _The word had been so tantalizing not long ago. But now... "How do you know it's not one of Gerrarrd's men?"

"Because I know that ship, young missy. Now come along."

"I'm really quite comfortable." Elizabeth dug her heels into the sand and turned around so that she was facing away from shore. She was being foolish - nay, childish - but the idea of setting foot on another ship save the _Dauntless_ did not appeal to her. Just behind her, she could almost envision Jack staring down at her with one hand stroking the braids in his beard. Thus she looked up with some surprise as the captain knelt directly in front of her, his dark eyes boring straight into hers.

"I'm curious, Elizabeth, as to just what you intend to do on this island if I leave you here - besides slowly starve to death? Regardless... such a thing won't be happening, as your father will--"

"--have your head," she finished, looking away. "Pirate."

"No, indeed - soon to be a free and legal man! For a very short while, anyway." Jack pulled her to her feet and began frolicking toward the seashore, his coat flapping. "Captain Jack Sparrow, scourge of the Caribbean, hero of the pirates!" He sang it to the tune of the Really Bad Eggs song, much to her horror. Why had she ever taught him that? 

Elizabeth followed along behind him, hitching up the ruined trousers so she could address the men on the boat with _some_ dignity. So that's what her life was to be, was it? Worth a ship, worth a pardon, worth a man's life. To think, if Captain Rackham hadn't taken the _Dauntless _on that specific course - if he had shifted it slightly, as Corwin had suggested - they would have missed the sinking ship entirely. They would have missed Will Turner entirely. None of this ever would have happened...

She reached the boat as water licked at her knees, and a big sailor took her hand. "'Afternoon, m'lady. Fancy coming aboard the _Goldtooth?_" 

The ship's name didn't set off any peculiar thoughts. Nor did the odd bow the ship's captain presented to Jack. But once they were well underway, during supper with the officers, Elizabeth at last noticed the two beaded braids each man aboard had in his beard.

She spent the rest of supper staring pointedly at Jack, to the point where the pirate stretched and said he felt a bit like a nap. The captain and his officers scampered out instantly, leaving their plates and glasses as they were. He looked her over with a sly grin. "Well, ask away, Miss Swann. I will hold nothing back."

"Why does--and he--and they--how--" Elizabeth paused, met the pirate's gleeful stare head-on, and picked up the remainder of her wine. "It seems you have an admiration society, Mr. Sparrow."

"Captain," he said lazily. "...or... chief, if you like."

"Chief Sparrow." She sipped the wine, set the empty glass on the table. "If I may ask... how?"

"It's rather interesting how it all happened," he said, leaning back. By the look in his eye, he'd been waiting to tell this story a long time - and she'd played right into his trap. "This must have been... oh, the year after I lost the _Pearl. _I had gotten meself a neat little schooner - somethin' like this - and came upon an island blockaded by a Very Bad Man." He waited for some reaction but appeared undaunted when she continued to stare. "They came to me asking for help, for it seems no ships had been able to get in or out, and I was the first news of the outside world they'd had." 

Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.

"My arrival came three days to the very hour their great chieftain died... the mighty Janos! Ah, fine man he was, fine man - so I'm told. It took not but a moment for them to realize me as a skilled swordsman, and perhaps their only way out of this terrible thing. One thing led to another, and they made me their battle lord..."

"Their _battle lord_?" Elizabeth finished her wine. "Interesting... do continue."

"So plan we did, for three days and three nights, until the midnight star crept high o'er our heads and all was ready for our... action." Jack lifted a fork that still had a bit of meat on it, using it to punctuate his story. "I went aboard those ships, and I told those Very Bad Men - leave or be killed, all of you! And they laughed. They _ laughed._ Something changed their mind, though."

Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.

"I told them 'twould be terribly ill-omened for them to shed blood on a midwinter's night, for curses descend upon the living at that time, you know." Jack stood up and began striding slowly around the little table, seemingly lost in his memories. 

She looked at him with big eyes over the rim of her glass. "And then?"

"Mind you - rumors had already begun to fly about the cursed gold and my poor _Pearl_." He paused in front of her, fork still in-hand. "So they took the curse bit rather seriously. I went to their captain, you see, and I leaned very close to him..." Jack placed one hand on the table and leaned in to demonstrate, and she could feel his breath against her face. "...and I told him..." Elizabeth's breath caught as his voice dropped "...'Leave this island now, lest Captain Jack Sparrow _make _you leave.'" 

She leaned closer to him, vaguely of how very intense his charcoal-smudged eyes could be. "And... they left?"

"Aye, they did," he said, that dark gaze still fixed on her. "They did... and I returned to the island triumphant. The settlers thanked me with food," he held the fork up to her and wrapped her hand around it, "I want you to have this..." and straightened, looking out the lone porthole. "...and they made me their chief." 

Elizabeth stared at the fork and the meat, trying desperately to collect her scattered thoughts. "Battle lord... and then chief?"

"We are headed to Sparrowisle, m'lady, where rum flows freely and no doors are ever locked!" Jack placed one boot upon a chair and struck a pose.

_Rum? _Hadn't she done some... well... improper things last time she'd had rum? 

Jack winked at her.

Well... maybe just one improper thing. 

The place was called _Sparrowisle? _

No good could come of this. 

Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.

Needless to say, she was almost entirely drunk by the time _Goldtooth _put into port at midnight. 

Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, was almost entirely sober - which made for a peculiar change. 

"Cap'n Jack," she said as he half-helped, half-carried her off the ship, "it... must be nice to be... a chief." 

"Indeed it is, darling, and come daybreak you will see what kind of chief I am..." He paused to tip her back upright. "...presuming your head doesn't hurt too much."

She could see the little town as it slept, witnessed a few people poking their heads out of windows to investigate raucous laughter from the dock. Wait. That laughter came from _her_! Horrified, Elizabeth drew herself up and turned to Jack, pulling away from him. "_Captain _Sparrow, how _could _you?"

"Why, it was shockingly easy, lass - how could I what?"

"Let me get _drunk_." She giggled and smiled at him. "You remember what happened _last _time I got... drunk."

"Hmmm..." He reached a steadying hand out as she slipped. "I seem to remember a good deal of talking, not much else."

She wanted to clap her hands together gleefully, but instead she bobbed a courtesy. "Thank you _ever _so much for your digression, Mr. Sparrow... diversion... dinnydinndooda..."

"Discretion?"

"That's the one! Discretion!" She promptly slipped on another patch of still-wet earth and landed flat on her bum, gaping at her feet. "My, I certainly am rather drunk, aren't I?"

He helped her to her feet and steered her toward a house with an open door. "I think you make a rather fetching drunk," he said, before a kind-looking woman with beads in her hair showed her to a bed. Elizabeth fell face-down onto the pillow and promptly fell into a sweet, liquor-induced sleep.

"We'll have to darken her hair..." 

Elizabeth opened one eye. She lay stretched on her side on a mattress, facing a wall. _ I know that voice... by God's good grace, my head hurts..._

"But what does Gerrarrd want with her? She hardly seems 'is type." A lighter voice, a smaller man. They stood about eight feet away from her. 

"That young woman happens to be the daughter of Weatherby Swann, and onetime-consort of Commodore Corwin Norrington." She could almost imagine Jack's eyes flashing gold coins. "She is... well-connected, shall we say."

Well, it _sounded _like Jack, except... something was not quite right... 

The smaller man tapped his foot against the ground. "Well, I'll have the lads look into things quietly, but I knows for a fact Gerrarrd's got more floozies n' I can think up. We'll get your lass to Shona, she'll be right pleased to help 'er, certainly if it's for Father Jack."

_Father Jack?! _Elizabeth couldn't hold back her giggle - except it came out as more of a low-pitched, grunting hitch. Footsteps came closer. "Are you awake, Miss Swann?"

Much to her head's distress, she rolled over with a grin. "Quite awake, Father Jack."

He quirked his eyebrows at her, his ever-present semi-smug/amused look settling into place. "Good! And how's your head?"

She smiled. "I feel like I've been kicked in the face by a very large horse."

"Good! Ah, Elizabeth Swann, this is Magnus de Anjou, formerly of the good ship _Branwen. _He oversees things for me when I can't be about." 

"Aha." Elizabeth sat up and extended her hand with as much dignity as she could muster. _So he's a minion, then? _Magnus scooped up her hand and kissed it delicately. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Anjou."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Swann. Please, call me Magnus... we're rather informal on Sparrowisle." Magnus helped her to her feet, pulled out a chair for her to sit in. "Jack tells me you've need of a disguise." 

"I was unaware of that."

"Apparently Gerrarrd is searching these islands," Jack said, wandering about the little room and examining things. "Well - his henchmen, to be precise. _Wickedry _herself was only seen fleetingly." 

_That _was it! The slur had vanished. Elizabeth straightened. "Why does he want _me_? You said--" Jack shook his head ever so slightly, and she stuck out her lower lip instead of finishing her sentence. 

"Oh, 'tis me he's after, no doubt. He'll never allow _Captain _Jack Sparrow to slide through his fingers."

Perhaps she was still a tad tipsy, but this really did seem like a fine time for an argument. "Bah! You're of little consequence to him. He's after me, and my ransom money." 

"No... I believe he's after _me_, and my..." Jack appeared to be thinking quite hard. "...value." 

"You're wrong."

"I'm right."

"He wants my money and my body," she said firmly. Magnus cleared his throat and looked away demurely; Jack did no such thing, instead sliding his gaze with exaggerated thoughtfulness down her frame.

"Can't argue with the second bit, love."

Magnus waited until a sufficient amount of time had passed before speaking again. "The people will protect Chief Sparrow and his... lady... for as long as necessary. We are honored to have him here with us. But in case someone comes looking for you... we may need to change your appearance." He looked meaningfully at the tattered rags of Gerrarrd's clothing. "And doubtless you will want a bath."

Yes, that was true. She probably stank rather badly right now... no, she _did _stink rather badly right now. "Very well. But doesn't _he _have to change how he looks as well?" She looked at Jack, mostly to see him squirm.

He batted his eyes at her. "Of course not, darling. It would break the hearts of the fine women on this island if I were to change a single thing about my masculine beauty." 

That simply would not do.

"Your hair hasn't been brushed in years. _You _probably haven't had a bath in years. The beads need to go. And Captain Sparrow, there are braids in your beard." 

He pulled lightly on the braids. "I feel pretty." 

"Don't make that face at me."

"What face?"

"The one you just made!"

"I made no face." Jack turned to Magnus. "Did _you_ make a face?"

Elizabeth clapped her hands to her forehead and instantly regretted it. "ARGH!"

"No, it's ARRRR!" 

She held out her hand. "Give me your gun."

"Why?"

"I'm going to shoot myself." 

Three hours and several stories of Captain Sparrow's exploits later, Elizabeth was finally starting to feel relatively human again. She had been deposited into the hands of Shona, one of the island women who spoke little but smiled plenty. The beads and trinkets in her hair jangled just as Jack's did, and she bustled about Elizabeth with a calm, confident manner. 

The bath came first. She soaked for an hour, scrubbing over and over until the skin showed pink and puffy. Brushing out her hair, she paused when she caught Shona pounding some plants together. "What are you doing?"

"Father Jack's orders," she explained. Elizabeth found she could not quite place her accent, though she caught a hint of an Irish brogue. "'Twill make eyes go over you. Most on this island are darker."

_Father Jack. _According to the other women who passed by to regale her with tales, that title might be literal as well as honorary. Apparently Jack Sparrow, Island Hero had his pick of the women - wedded or not. 

_He probably initiates their virgins. No wonder he was so pleasant about it. My, I've certainly grown free with my thoughts as of late. _Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as the island woman dunked her head into the paste she'd made, but otherwise did not comment. Life went much easier when she didn't fight.

Nightfall on Sparrowisle brought singing and dancing and sweet words that no one would remember come morning.

Elizabeth found Jack perched on a makeshift throne with one leg draped over the side, patting the head of one of the island girls she'd seen earlier. He must have been watching the festivities that went on in his honor... but he turned his head as he heard her jangling toward him. A smile found its way to his face as he dismissed the island girl and tugged gently on his beard. "Beads in my hair, hmm?"

She folded her arms. "Don't. Just don't." 

Mercifully, he did not comment on the horrifying cut of the dress or the paste that had failed in some places, leaving her with a splotchy mess of black and brownish hair adorned with beads. He didn't even comment on the terror that her eyebrows had become after Shona had unsuccessfully attempted to darken them with the same paste. He just smiled. "You fit right in, Miss Liz." 

She grunted and rested one arm on the back of the throne as a herd of children scurried past. "How many are yours, do you think?"

He regarded them with deep interest. "Of that batch? None. I didn't stay long enough for any ceremonies that year." He sent her a glance. "My apologies, Miss Swann, if I offend your sensibilities." 

A boy of about eight came up to her, offered a platter of fruit. She accepted it with a nod, and the boy beamed a familiar grin when Jack patted him on the head. Off he went, leaving Elizabeth to gaze after him. "That one is yours."

"Aye..."

"There is much of you in him." She bit into something sweet but unidentifiable and chewed for a few moments. "Dare I ask if you know who the mother is?"

"He would be Inola's son." Jack helped himself to some of the fruit. "I know my own people." 

"At least you know something." She picked at the fruit, but found herself gazing at them again. "What are they? I've seen an Irishman or two, and English, but..."

He took another fruit. "They're a mix. As I've managed to gather, it's something of a failed colony... the natives and colonists got along well enough, but it's far from the typical trade routes." He sent her a meaningful look. "This bodes quite well for us and our current popularity, if you take my meaning."

The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of meat and liquor. She chuckled, handing him the platter. "You weren't joking about the rum flowing freely, were you?" 

"Of course not." He set the platter down and hopped to his feet, extending a hand to her. "Dance, m'lady?"

She stared at the hand, then at the pirate. _Should I be laughing or running away? _"Wh... what?"

"It is the Chief's duty to dance with the maidens each nightfall," he said. "But I would not want to make you jealous if I propositioned another beauty first." 

She glanced at the singing, dancing people and for an instant toyed with the idea of spinning wildly, sand between her toes. 

Dancing with a pirate. 

But she was still Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter... and she missed Will. "Thank you, Captain... I must decline." 

"Your sensibilities are getting the better of you," he observed. "Is anyone else here concerned with them?"

"Clearly not."

"Aye, and do y'know why? They don't require it, love. Look at them sing and dance. There are no laws here, save the Chief's word. And my word is for them to live life." 

"Jack Sparrow," she muttered, "Island Hero. Do they know their chief is a pirate?"

"They do. They seem to find it... rather exciting." He picked up her hand and kissed it, then winked at her. "Until next we speak, Miss Swann."

Off he went to dance, and as she glanced over her shoulder she caught him surrounded by women. No, Jack Sparrow would not go to sleep lonely tonight - if he slept at all.

_Would it really have been so bad, dancing out there? _ Elizabeth made her way to the shore and stood in the surf, letting the water lap gently at her toes. _He can be very amusing when he's not rum-addled... and these people seem kind. Warm. Good-hearted. Do they truly have no laws? Can a society exist like that? _She opened her arms to the stars, tilting her head back and letting the breeze creep over her neck. _ It doesn't matter. I will be home soon. And then... then I will find William. Somehow._

She looked at the water again, listened to its whispers. _ Tell him I'll come for him. Tell him I'll find him, somehow. Tell William not to lose heart._

I will find you. I promise. 

She hoped that time would not prove her to be a liar. 

_(Readers: _

_I'm headed back to school and work shortly, so updates will be fewer and farther in between. Be well, hugs and kisses, fresh strawberries, etc. I am not going to forget about this story or you guys and if I can't update for awhile, please understand that I will get to it ASAP. I really like this story and hope to continue it._

_Wackelda - plot's dragging on, huh? You've found me out. It's going to keep on dragging! It's going to go on forever! I am going to RULE THE WORLD via long, dragging fics! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!_

_That said, I'm not working under a word-count ceiling for the first time in awhile; therefore, I'm stretching my legs. It feels good.) _


	15. Turner Family Reunion

Noble Bay

_Wickedry _docked not far from the ruins of a once-grand ship.

Will had limped up to the main deck as she put into port, and gazing over the starboard bow caught sight of the bones jutting up from the sand. She had been trim, he reasoned; trim and lovely with her three masts and all sail set. The lower parts of the masts still stood as proudly as the day she sailed, shredded canvas and twists of rope swinging in the breeze that buffeted the bay. By the way she rested on the beach, someone had clearly tried to beach her before she went under, and had succeeded to some extent. 

His blacksmith's eye already searched for a way to repair her, to make her as she had once been. Her rakish profile remained largely intact, marred only by a gaping tear in her port side - a death wound for any ship. Had her crew not even tried to bring her back to life? Had they intended such destruction of a once-lovely thing?

_What is she, merchantman or man o'war? She looks rather like a larger _Interceptor_, doesn't she? I wonder if I could repair her... _Will shook the thought off and made to look toward the footsteps approaching him, then abruptly found himself staring once again at the derelict.

_You know me, William Turner... don't you. _

In those dried old bones, there lay something vaguely familiar. Something almost... 

_Or perhaps it is that I know you... _

The wind moved, and the flash was gone. 

He shivered, running his hands up his opposite arms. The sight of a wreck would chill anyone. Particularly a wreck that still looked... well, like she could ghost under the wind again. 

"Pretty ol' thing once, so I'm told," Gerrarrd remarked from behind him. "She's been here so long as any of the locals can recall. Stubborn... though once a fine ship." Perhaps he took note of Will's reaction, or perhaps the pirate had his own reservations about such a vision. "'Tis always worse when they're still blatantly recognizable. She is indeed still a ship, though a dead one. I'd rather the tide washed her out one day, rid us of such an eyesore." 

"What happened to her?" He pointed at the hole.

"Near as can be figured, she hit something. Her captain was probably making for the bay as it was and didn't realize 'twere reefs involved. At least he had the good sense to run her ashore." The pirate took his arm, acting as a crutch. "Come ashore, Mr. Turner, there's much for us to be doing."

Will allowed the captain to lead him to the dock, where he was left leaning against a barrel as Gerrarrd exchanged words with a man dressed entirely in black. Staring at them yielded little information, so he opted to take in the sights - what there were of them - of his new surroundings. 

Noble Bay could never be compared to Tortuga, but as far as he could see, it reached for much the same goal: a haven for pirates. The men - and more than a few women - who stomped and straggled by him were all bronzed from the sun, toting weapons of dubious quality and wore expressions that would probably make even the great Commodore Norrington think twice about engaging them. Their flyaway hair and careless swagger sent brief echoes of Sparrow jogging through his mind, though it did make him wonder about Gerrarrd's appearance - polished by comparison. 

_Wickedry _enjoyed solitary glamour as the largest ship in the bay, flanked by a quartet of sloops and schooners that would probably go belly-up as soon as they ventured beyond island trading. When he squinted, he thought he could make out the bow of another large ship docked just beyond the harbor - she had the look of a slow-going merchantman about her. 

Goodness, all this boat-watching with Elizabeth has certainly paid off. 

A pistol clicked, and he tore his attention from the bay to Gerrarrd, who had seen fit to point his gun at the man's head and scowl at him. "...is that _so_...?" 

"Captain?" Will called.

Gerrarrd looked at him, his mouth tightening. The gun was shoved back into his belt, and a finger replaced its presence in the man's face. "Ye've got but a week, Errol, and should ye be messin' this one op, there'll be none o'me mercy." 

"Aye, sir." Nonplussed, Errol ambled away to one of the sloops. Gerrarrd returned his full attention to Will with a rueful smile.

"Sometimes... things o'gotta be done by force if they're to be done at all, wouldn't you agree?"

"Are you going to kill him if he fails in - whatever he's supposed to be doing?"

Gerrarrd chuckled. "Nay, lad, it'll be no good to kill him. He's entirely too useful. Scare him a bit, perhaps. Don't let that get out, though... merciful reputations never get anyone anywhere. The Caribbean's very own Commodore Norrington, for example. Ever since he let Sparrow fly, there's been talk amongst his own ranks." Gerrarrd began steering him down what passed for the road, but Will put a hand up and refused to budge.

"Where is Elizabeth?"

"Delayed. Errol relayed that, among other things." The captain had become almost amiable in the last week and a half of _Wickedry_'s cruise; probably with anticipation of returning to his so-called home - or possibly, Will hoped, because his newest prisoner was proving to be quite obedient and curious as to the life of piracy. 

Ah, piracy. Fortunately, Gerrarrd had spared him a full-fledged example, citing the all-too-recent _ Relentless _as lesson enough for the young man. Nonetheless, the idea of it proved a welcome respite from his worry for Elizabeth... and thoughts of his father.

_Father. I'm going to meet my father._

"...but we'll bring her in, have no fear." 

They slowly made their way to a building set further back from the rest, but Gerrarrd had scarcely pushed open the door when a young woman came running out, blubbering about madness and sharks. The captain had to grab her chin and stare into her eyes to get any kind of reaction. "What's this, now?"

"We've been tryin', sir, with everything we got we done been trying, and he just- 'e _bit _another man--"

Gerrarrd's normally-unflappable demeanor abruptly gave way to fury. "Rickon said he was progressing--"

"He is! Jost last night, he asked fer rum."

"'E asked the _dog _for rum, you bloody wench, an' then he bit off Kerbin's ear." A much larger man elbowed the woman - girl, really - aside and looked Will over before bowing his head to Gerrarrd. "This the boy?"

"My name is Will Turner," he said, getting quite sick of being referred to as _boy _and _whelp _by every pirate he came across. The fact that this disturbing large individual had apparently been anticipating his presence did not slip his mind, but he didn't have time to think about it. The girl gave him a shy smile before darting back into the building, and Gerrarrd ground his teeth as the trio of them followed. 

"As you can see, he _is_. What's this about getting worse?" Gerrarrd loosed his sword and tossed it on a table once indoors, sending a glance to another door at the back of the room. The girl sat on a bench nearby, stirring something in a bowl. 

"Not getting worse, Captain. Not necessarily getting _better_, but I'd not be sayin' he's any worse fer wear. We's figurin' he'da been down there what, six years? It'll take time."

Gerrarrd bared his teeth in something that might have been intended as a cold smile. "We haven't any time."

"It might do 'im good to see his boy, maybe," Rickon said guardedly. "But I ain't certain how good it'll be for the lad."

_Do I really look so young? _ He was nearly twenty-one, by God! Will stood up as straight as he could manage on his leg and looked Rickon in the eye. "I believe I should see him."

Rickon looked at Gerrarrd. Gerrarrd looked at Will. "He's in a bad way, Mr. Turner. A very bad way. When we found him, he was stumbling about the Rudder Bay outpost chewing on a man's hand. Seems he came crawling out in the moonlight while Barbossa still had the crew cursed. Must've been a glorious sight." 

Will swallowed hard but nodded firmly. He had to do this. He'd come this far. "I will see him, if the captain will permit it."

After a moment's thought, Gerrarrd held open the other door.

The room had been kept dark. 

Dark, and uncleaned. "God's blood," he growled as the scent of urine and blood and things far worse wafted out and over him. "Has no one seen to his accommodation?"

"Tried." Rickon didn't sound terribly distressed. "'E's vicious. Not a one o'us is willin' te risk our hides fer it." 

"Find someone," Gerrarrd commanded. "Or I'll have you doing it yourself." Even _he _ sounded disgusted. 

Will stepped further into the room, ignoring the captain's request to _watch your step, laddie. _ Wet hay squished beneath his boots, and he steeled himself against the odor and the darkness. 

He could see the eyes watching him from the other side of the room - watching him from the moment the sliver of light came from the opened door. He could hear breathing... just breathing, and the own rapidness of his heartbeat. _Father, Father I'm here now... _Father had left twelve years ago, hadn't he? Twelve years ago... eleven years ago... would he be recognizable? Would he be looking into his own face? Or would Bootstrap Bill Turner be nothing more than a maddened monster, still-sodden from his years on the seabed?

Will lifted the lantern Gerrarrd had given to him so that he might see better - and likewise illuminate his face. Across the room, something whined. He could make out the shining eyes, the ragged locks of hair that trailed down a thin body clad only in a shirt. Summoning up what memories he had of his father, he forced a smile and pretended the shattered creature in front of him was only another of the games they had once played in the attic of their tiny house. "Father," he said aloud, pleased that his voice did not crack from the emotion. "Father... it's me. William." 

Did the man's breath pause for just an instant? 

He knew Gerrarrd and the others would be listening on the other side of the door. Hoping for a miracle. Hoping the bloody lad they'd gone through such trouble to find would prove to be worth it after all.

Will smiled in spite of himself. _Oh yes, Ephraim Gerrarrd, I know when I'm being used. Jack Sparrow taught me that. _

"England."

The voice came out as a raspy growl, but its tenor was not entirely unfamiliar. Will squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I left England eight years ago, Father. Going on nine. I still called you 'Papa' then... remember?" He searched his memories for one that would stick. "You and mother took me to a lake once, and--"

He skittered backward as the figure lurched out of the darkness at him, and for a horrifying instant he saw bared teeth set against a nearly-skeletal face - a face that otherwise might resemble his. And William Turner knew in that moment that this was indeed Bootstrap Bill Turner - and that Rickon's optimism was horribly misplaced.

The creature stopped short at attacking him entirely, settling for staring at him with watering eyes. "Son," he rasped. "England. Now?"

"The Caribbean. All will be well." Will took another step into the room, seeing in those eyes the vaguest hint of the man he remembered. It gave him heart. "Father," he whispered. "I've missed you."

The man that had once been - and yet might once again be - Bootstrap Bill regarded him thoughtfully.

Then he lunged. 

_I really can't win, can I?_

_(Hello my lovelies! _

_I've another one nearly ready to go after this; we're due to visit Jack and Elizabeth on Sparrowisle to see how they're getting along. _

_My thoughts on Bootstrap's state of mind (or lack thereof): if he was down there for six years as Gerrarrd and his buddies claim, on top of wandering for another four - he's going to have... issues.) _


	16. The Parts We Play

_(I'm almost certain I'm going to get hate mail for this one...) _

"But do you know what the fish brought her? That's right! The statue of the very lad she coveted..."

"What was the fish's name?"

He paused. "What?"

"The fish. You haven't named him yet." 

"I... why does the fish need a name?"

"You named the _crustacean_," she said witheringly. 

"After me old mate! Very well - the fish was named... Flounder." 

"Flounder the flounder." Elizabeth stuck her lower lip out, a sign that she was either trying not to laugh or growing irritated. "Terribly creative, Captain Sparrow." 

He leaned in close to a candle as he looked over a map provided by the ever-faithful Magnus de Anjou - perhaps a bit too close. Elizabeth sat not five feet away, half-listening to the latest addition of his mermaid yarn. "...and the wee redhead said to her Papa, 'but father, I _love_ him!' And do you know what her Papa did?"

Elizabeth yawned. Oh, dear, he was losing her. "Wished her luck and watched her kiss him?"

"Of course not. He wasn't there, darling. Mermaid, remember?"

"Oh. Of course. Continue, please."

"He took 'is great staff, an' destroyed 'er cove of belongings! Makes your ol' da look downright sweet, does it--"

She screeched.

Jack blinked, looking up at her. "If it affects ya that much, love, we can tell the story about the lass in China, the one that saved her--"

Wordlessly she pointed a finger at him, a look of horror on her face. "What? Moonlight making me bony again?" His pleasure at his own cleverness was interrupted when he smelled smoke, and something... something burning...

"You're on _fire_, you fool!" Elizabeth shrieked, pushing away from the table. Jack crossed his eyes looking down at the two ropes of his beard currently hosting flames. _Oh, it must be a dream. Not enough rum tonight. _

"So I am, so I... _ACK!_ Put it out, put it out!" Jack flung up his hands and hopped about from one foot to the next, mostly to see if Elizabeth would do the same. Dreams like this were always so pleasant. 

She did all that and more, scrabbling about for water. Relatively unconcerned by the heat he now felt against his chin, Jack pressed both hands to his heart. "I'm melting, ay me, I'm _melting!_"

Elizabeth flung the remaining bathing water onto him, quenching the flames and effectively dousing the rest of his body as well. Jack stared about his dripping person and the ruined beard, poking at it gingerly. "Alas, me wee beard, you've gone to the big chin in the sky..." 

It then occurred to him that not only was he quite awake, he'd also quite effectively been... well, ablaze. The look of realization on his face must have been quite priceless if it set the girl to cackling the way it did. 

"You're bloody daft," Elizabeth said. Jack gave her the most affronted stare he could manage, placing his hand over his heart to prompt ever-more laughter.

Now watching the lass wander about a night later, Jack tried to keep his hands away from what remained of the little ropes, declining a shave until he could get himself good and drunk. 

Jack watched her reactions to what went on around her and found himself grinning more often. Clearly the young lady wasn't terribly pleased with the entire situation, but she'd be damned if she'd show him otherwise. 

On their eighth night of feasting on Sparrowisle, Magnus de Anjou pulled him aside and delivered The News.

"_Goldtooth _spotted a merchantman leaving the Hollows--"

"Will's Bloody Isle," Jack interrupted. Magnus paused, brow furrowing. "It's called Will's Bloody Isle, if you please." 

"I... see." Jack smiled inwardly at the look of brief confusion, but Magnus gamely continued. "Captain Bartolo made to be passing through the territory and the merchantman hailed him with the query of whether he'd seen anyone fitting the general description of the lass... perchance not wanting to tip him off to the other quarry." His second paused, looking out over the ocean. "Captain Bartolo declined. Chief Sparrow, what the devil is going on here?"

Jack draped an arm around Magnus's shoulders, guiding him unsteadily to the beach. "The sea, Magnus," he said, affecting as much of his rum-slur as he dared, "what do you make of it?"

Clearly, Magnus wasn't certain whether Jack addressed the subject of the sea of the situation at hand. He settled for an ambiguous answer: "Um... it's very mysterious, sir."

"That's _correct! _And be wary should you ever forget that, Magnus, for then we'd all be in a great deal of trouble - yes, quite mysterious. Quite mysterious indeed..." Jack patted him once on the shoulder and then sauntered up the beach, waving his rum bottle about with exaggerated joy. Must keep morale up, as always. The people of Sparrowisle would not be happy if they saw their chief moping about... not at all. Even if the news from Magnus and his schooner-captains had been less than inspiring over the past several days. 

Ships prowling about where they should not. Questions that he did not fancy being asked. Rumors of bounties issued from Port Royal. Stories of something large growing in the Western Isles. Something... very large.

He would need something special for this. Something very special indeed.

Something he'd be able to get his hands on if he really wanted to.

Granted, it was a long ways off. 

Damnall. He hadn't wanted to go back. He'd sworn more than once that he'd die before he went back.

_Who'm I trying to fool? Of course I'll go back. Some things... a man's just gotta do. _

Slowly, The Plan began to formulate. 

Now he just had to convince the lady of the brilliance surrounding The Plan. Preferably without her knowing anything of it. 

Jack took a swig of the rum and grinned as Magnus approached him once more. 

Sparrowisle proved to be as intoxicating as its namesake, even without the rum. 

Elizabeth found herself being treated as an honored guest rather than just a visitor. If she even looked to be reaching for something, it was brought to her. She was fed the choicest bits of food after the Chief, adorned in the finest clothes that could be found. Considering some of the silks and velvets brought out for her approval, she concluded that Jack must have been dropping swag off at this place for years before she'd met him. How else could so much finery come to such a little place?

For the most part, she dressed simply and tried to blend in. They respected her wishes, though they still approached her with a reverence far beyond anything she deserved. 

She knew why they did it. The good people of Sparrowisle were obviously quite convinced she was the Chief's lady, according to Magnus. "He's never brought a woman back with him before," he had said when she asked after the treatment. "So naturally, they will... jump to conclusions."

Of course.

On the beach, Marcus said a few words. Jack nodded his head, looked to her. Smiled. Approached, his hips swaying as he extended a bottle of rum toward her. She took the bottle before she realized what she was doing and found herself swallowing a healthy gulp. 

_Oh, dear. This is probably not a wise idea. _

He took her hand, leading her out onto the sand and spinning her in a rough circle before she could formulate a question. "What are you doing?"

Jack waved the question aside with the bottle of rum. "Dancing?"

"I don't want to dance, I want to--"

"Ssh. Still your tongue. Listen to the _ocean_. Slow down... and breathe." 

"I am breathing."

In an instant he was closer to her - too close. His breath was laced with rum - so he'd had his dose already. Very well. "No, love, you're just inhaling and exhaling. Just close your eyes... breathe in... and breathe out..." When her eyes remained open, he stuck a finger in her face. "I'm not going to do anything _improper _if that's what you're terribly concerned about. Now close your bloody eyes or I'll cut them out."

He sounded just irritated enough to think about doing it, too. "You don't scare me, Chief Sparrow." Even so, Elizabeth obediently closed her eyes, turning away from him as she did so to let the ocean wind pour over her. Strong, quiet... sweet and fresh all at once. Beautiful. Free. 

_God help me. If I stay here any longer, I may never want to leave._

"That's better," Jack said after a time. "Now, _Miss _Swann, I will explain to you what's happening, and if you interrupt me..." He stroked his chin to dream up a suitable threat, then grinned broadly when he concocted one. "...I shall toss you into the water." 

Elizabeth presented him with her most pious expression. "Then please, Cap--_Chief_-- tell me what it is you'd like to say."

The captain pressed the palms of his hands together as though in deep prayer. "'Twould seem our friend Gerrarrd has been about these parts more often than not. My little fleet--" his eyes twinkled as he said the word "--has been drawing him off for as long as they can manage, but sooner or later he will find Sparrowisle. And he will know straight off that the good people here... are mine, seeing that they all but fall in worship whenever me name be mentioned." 

Elizabeth waited patiently for him to get to the point, even taking another swig of the rum. Jack grinned again, taking a few steps forward and thoroughly invading her space. 

"...therefore, I will be... _ instructing _them in several things... and then you and I will be hopping a ship to the nearest larger port, whence we will board a vessel to-- why _are _you backing away from me?" He closed the gap between them again, just to be irritating. "Have I got something in my teeth?" 

"No." That much, at least, was truthful. "But I'm afraid... of what you could do to me." The words slid off her rum-loosened tongue before she could stop them and landed at his feet. "Of what you have done to me."

A rather unnatural gleam came into the pirate's eyes, and a finger slid down her cheek. "Thought we'd decided not to discuss this."

"We're not... discussing it..." Her mouth had gone dry again, and her arms flung themselves up when he stepped closer to her, rum sloshing out of the bottle. "Please, Jack... Chief Sparrow... please don't..."

"I scarcely intend to do things not to your liking, missy," he said with another of those damning golden smiles. "You don't like it, you say the word... 'stop'... and Captain Sparrow will stop." His lips set themselves to her neck, and she felt the singed braids of his beard tickling her throat. _Stop. Oh, God, stop. _Yet the words would not come - her tongue would not cooperate - there would be nothing for her, nothing save this, and...

_But Will, Will is out there..._

"Jack."

He paused in his ministrations but did not remove his head from her neck. "Hmm?"

"Why?"

He pulled away, fingers sliding down the front of the bodice, pausing to play with the strings. "S'I see it, darling Lizzie..." She cringed away from the nickname. "...part of you is out there fighting things with your dear William. But th'other part... the other part's right here with me... savvy?"

_Was that... supposed to make **any** sense at all?_

"I'm here, but...?" Oh. _ Oh. _The bastard. Will was not here, but Jack Sparrow was. Yes, Jack Sparrow, ready and willing and _quite _available to assuage her every physical need... 

...needs. Need was a funny thing, wasn't it? Months before, she hadn't even considered such things. Now, with a pirate in front of her... gazing at her with night-dark eyes and a knowing smile... a knowing...

She realized it quite swiftly after that: Jack was her punishment. She had done Will an evil on that island... she had done her God an evil, her family... everything. She'd let herself be with that... man... not even a man, but a _pirate... _and now fate had come to crack her over the head with him. With everything she had wanted and feared and wished for in those months after Barbossa and his men had made off with an imposter and a medallion.

Now here he was... the source of it all. The reason for everything. _Jack... _She longed to run her hands over his face, to feel his hands on her body again. He noticed her shift in position as she leaned against him, cupping her chin in his hand, smoothing her hair away from her face. "That's it, love, you understand now..."

Yes. Now she understood lust and its sortie of consequences. 

His lips barely brushed against hers...

"Stop."

The lips paused.

"Stop. I cannot do this, Captain Sparrow. I - I care for Will. I care for my family, what's left of it." 

He pulled away and looked at her with interest. "You nearly forgot for a moment, darling. Really, you should straighten your signals out." The interest turned to mild disappointment, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "You're quite impetuous, Miss Swann. So much passion and vivacity... seems a shame to waste that on a quiet life, don't you say?"

She decided it would be in her best interest _not_ to ask what she should do instead. "I don't deny what you make me feel, Captain... Chief... whatever you may be. Only that I realize that engaging in such things with you would bring nothing but ill."

"Ill to whom?" He countered.

"To all of us. Let me go." 

Jack grinned crookedly and jerked her fully against him for one brief, horrible moment so she could see exactly what stewed within his eyes. "A shame to waste so much spirit, Miss Swann," he whispered, moving his hips against her just enough to inform her that she had indeed done _something _right this evening. "A damned shame indeed. It will please you to know, however, that I have decided what must be done to remedy a situation such as this, and it involves a bit of travel. If you'll place your trust in me, we'll no longer need to dally about on Sparrowisle." 

Unable to come up with a properly witty retort, she nodded. 

Then he was gone, sashaying off down the beach with his rum and his beads and whatever happened to follow him around these parts.

Two hours later... 

He regretted it as soon as the blades flashed silver, but it had to be done.

_Good Lord, mate, when was the last time you brushed this? _ Snip, snip. _You know, it's simply scandalous to let it go for so long. _ Snip, snip. _What is **this**? _The bone held aloft. _ Wretched!_

"'Ey now, watch that! 'Tis me memories there!" He'd had to get drunk to do it. Very drunk. 

"Chief?" Magnus called from just outside the door. "Is someone else in there?"

"You're hearing things, de Anjou!" As he regarded the half-finished job in the muggy little mirror in front of him, he thought perhaps he had not managed to get drunk enough.

_**LOOK **at this beard. Look at it! You should be ashamed! And what's this - is this - good gracious, he's been on fire!_

"Accident," he grumbled, picking up the razor and eyeing it warily. "Maps. Bloody candle. Girl thought it was funny." 

_That's no excuse!_

"Bugger off." 

"Sir?" Magnus's voice echoed nervously from the outer room. "Are you quite alright?"

"I'm _fine_, Magnus!" 

"Who are you talking to?"

"The rum!" He reached for a razor and found his hand smartly rapped. 

_NO! You mustn't just shave! You need to prepare your skin!_

"Prepare?" 

Soap. A tub. Well, maybe he _was _drunk enough; he certainly had no clue how he'd wound up here, soaking. Scrape, scrape. Shaving. _ Shaving?!_

His mind began to stir from the rum haze. "Wait, what'm I doing?"

_You want to help your people, don't you? _

"Ah, thas' _right_, I'm setting an... _example_, aren't I. And... I got a place to go! Somewhere, someone's gonna see me an' say, that's a fine gentleman... aren't they?"

_You silly man, there are no pirate gentlemen! Tilt your chin. Very nice. You do make a fetching pirate._

"Ladies 'r fetching. Men are... are..." 

_Why do this now if you've waited so long? I don't think we can salvage this shirt..._

"Don't you understand, mates? I've got an appointment - I've got to save - the _world!_" He paused, touching the newly-smooth skin on his face hesitantly. "Well... the Caribbean, at the very least." 

Magnus swung the door open. "I know you be talkin' to someone in here, I hear _voices_--" He broke off as he stared at Jack, his mouth falling open. "I--ah--" 

Jack regarded him solemnly. "Careful, de Anjou. Voices can get a man rather crisped in these parts" 

Shona peeped over his shoulder and gasped. "Quickly, hide the mirrors!" 

Jack merrily scampered past them to look into the full-length mirror in the other room. He struck a pose, admiring his new look. "Why, I'm _beautiful!_"

The blond man dropped the beads and trinkets and bone into his outstretched hand. _Glad we could be of service! _Away they went - whisked into the night and taking with them the last of his rum fantasy. 

He stared at himself in the mirror, and sobriety came crashing back to him as his hand closed around the trinkets. Behind him, Shona and Magnus exchanged uneasy glances. 

He knew the face in the mirror; it was a face he had seen every day nearly a decade ago. It was a face he had turned his back on, a face he had banished to dreams and memories. A face...

Just a face.

"What's in a face, after all?"

Gently pocketing his possessions, he picked up the empty bottle of rum and ambled out the door, almost smiling as he passed the tattered remains of his hair on the floor. At least now he'd feel the wind on his chin. 

Besides... he was about to pay Elizabeth a most _delicious _surprise...

Whoever was rapping at her door during the wee hours of the morning was going to get a sound slap if she could manage to stop yawning.

Judging by the impatience of the rapping, she had a fair idea of just who it was, too.

Candle firmly in-hand, Elizabeth yanked the door open, ready to deliver a thorough tongue-lashing - but stopped short at the stranger on her doorstep. Young, and not all that much taller than herself, he studied her with dancing dark eyes and a hint of a smile. Something inside her told her who it was - she _knew _- but the shoulder-length hair could not be his. The charcoal, where was it? Much of his calculating look had been lost with it.

He winked. 

"I..."

Dear God. That had been a squeak.

Elizabeth did the only thing that seemed prudent at that moment: she shut the door and leaned against it, eyes wide.

On the other side of the door, the rapping turned into a pounding. "C'mon, missy, none of that."

She opened the door again and allowed herself to stare.

The man smiled, and only when she saw his gold teeth did she realize it was truly him. 

"Good evening, bonny lass." 

She had been aware that beneath all the hair and grime he was probably a good-looking man; during their time together, she'd even come to the mortifying conclusion that the very hair and beads she had poked fun at gave him a dangerous attractiveness. But this... this... "Captain Sparrow," she whispered, "You look... you look..." 

_Well, he IS rather good-looking. _

The smile looked different without the beard and mustache, though he'd left a hint of each. "Roguishly handsome? Dashing? Shall I take you now?"

Oh, that simply would not _do. _"...almost human!" 

Jack's mouth twitched, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth took a step back, sizing him up in the dim light of her candle. _Yes_, she admitted to herself, _ he's not difficult to look at. I suppose he's handsome now. But why on Earth...? _"God in heaven, Jack, why?"

"Ah, is the lady displeased?" He winked, pirouetting so she could see the full effect. Bloody hell, he looked like a man who had simply made off with Jack's clothes. "Do you think they cut it too short?"

"They?"

"Ah, me. I. A bit drunk. Sorry. Yes. Well." He stumbled to the fireplace, shuffled his feet. "Why, you'll ask. Or did ask. You see, if I want my people to remain safe, they must... cut their ties from me, for awhile at least." When he turned to face her, something in those bright dark eyes had gone out. "So I must encourage them." 

"By changing yourself," she whispered.

"Aye. I've done it before. Not so hard. Watch them all walk right past me on the morrow." Some of her unease must have shown, because he flashed another grin and walked over, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Rest easy, love, it'll all grow out in a year or so! I'll be back to the Jack ya know and love in no time... just as soon as what needs to be done is done." 

There it was again - the uncertainty. She had _never _seen uncertainty in Jack Sparrow. Not in battle, not in conversation, not even on their island all those months ago. Uncertainty was not part of who he was.

It frightened her.

"Jack."

"Some call me that."

"What are you going to do?"

The confident smile returned. "I'm off to fetch something that will help us put a stop to Gerrarrd, love. Now don't ask any more questions, or I'll be forced to do something... drastic." 

"This is for - for where we're going, isn't it? Not Port Royal." 

He leaned back slightly, sizing her up. "No, love. Not Port Royal." 

"I understand." Her voice caught. "I suppose - Isla de Muerta, then?" 

Now the look he gave her turned to one of bewilderment, but it slid gracefully into acceptance. Acceptance that she'd figured out his plan. "That's the truth of it. Isla de Muerta. After all..." He slid back into his customary slur with ease, "...what's an adventure without a bit o'intrigue, m'lady?"

The knot that had started in her stomach worked its way up into her throat. "How do you do it, Jack?"

The slur and the smile vanished. "I learned." 

His hands were still planted firmly on her shoulders, and with a quiet sound, she disengaged herself and looked to her bed. "I'm... rather tired, Jack." 

"Ahh... not up for me joining ypu, then?" The grin returned, relieving her to an extent. "Get your rest, Miss Swann. _Goldtooth _will be taking us somewhere in a few days, once my... change has settled in." He bowed to her, hands pressed together in genuine Jack fashion. Then out he went, shutting the door gently behind him. 

Jack paused on the stoop and smiled to himself. "We're going to Isla de Muerta, Jack!" he affected Elizabeth's tone as he virtually skipped to the water's edge. "'Why yes, love, we are,'" he responded to himself. "'Why look, there's Barbossa himself! How are you doing, old chap?' 'To be honest, I've been better, Jack.' 'Captain. CAPTAIN Jack!' Aye. Because I'd strip meself of such beauty for _him! _Oh, Lizzie dear, you're in for _such _a wonderful surprise..." 

He set off to Magnus's hut, whistling. There was yet much to be done to perfect The Plan. 

_(So where IS Jack planning on going? How hard will Elizabeth slap him once she finds out? How long will it take for the Sparrowlings to get used to their chief's new look? Have YOU seen the Muffin Man?_

_Author's Notes: Considering the timeframe of the movie [and to an extent this fic] I would imagine that Elizabeth would have at least some foothold in religion. The version of her that appears in this fic probably viewed it as more of a requirement than anything, but she's probably looking for anything to blame Jack on at the moment. And, hmm... did a little bit of character exposition on Jack here. You may or may not agree with my interpretation of him - I'm just having a bit of fun. _

_With regards to: 'The Little Mermaid,' 'Mulan' (which I never did see), 'Wizard of Oz' and anything else I forgot to mention.) _

_(And yes... Jack was channeling the Fab Five. Yes, he had a bit of a makeover. Please do not have coronaries on his behalf: IT WILL GROW BACK! It will grow back to even grander magnificence than before! I promise you this! He had his reasons.) _

_(Wandering Rose, Erinya, & Rat - Have I mentioned how deep my love for you guys runs? I have never had such awesome reviewers. Thank you! The rest of the gang - you rock! Pirate hats for everyone!_

_Calendar, you thought the fic had a point? Um... it doesn't. =D) _


	17. The Boat's Going WHERE?

The merchant ship _Dominica _loomed up overhead, her crew taking on final provisions from the dusty little harbor town she would soon pull away from. Most of her passengers were already aboard; they now waited only for the captain and the young woman standing at the gangway, looking at it with some trepidation.

Elizabeth regarded the cog. In her opinion, the vessel was rather... overlarge for a simple island transport. "I'd rather the _Dauntless_."

"Being simple folk, we barely know what a _Dauntless _is, much less that there's a ship called that," a smooth voice informed her. Jack regarded the ship with mild disdain, sweeping over her ample curves much like a man sizing up a lady of the evening. "Well, she'll not be outrunning anything in the area, but she should get us there intact." 

"Why should we need to outrun anything?"

"A man in my line of work outruns many things. Just not in ships like these." A lock of raven hair slipped free from the queue he'd stuffed it into, and Elizabeth took another second to once again take in the new face. He batted his eyes at her, tilting his head to show off his best side. "Can't take your eyes off me, love?"

"Your mustache is crooked," she said. 

"So kind of you to notice. Shall we go aboard?" Jack offered his arm, and after a moment's contemplation, Elizabeth accepted it. 

***

Jack let the lass settle into a routine over the first three days of the voyage, just long enough to let word of their destination seep down below decks. Elizabeth's placid demeanor had lasted quite nicely for those three days, and as _Dominica _put the Caribbean to her rudder, Jack knew the time had come to inform her of their true destination.

He'd thought it would be ugly. He'd thought he would get slapped.

He had dreadfully underestimated the vocal power of the governor's daughter. 

"The boat's going _where?!_"

The shriek carried out over the fat cog's decks, and crew members looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Apparently the lady-passenger had quite a voice on her.

"You - you're _kidnapping _ me! You're a bloody, wretched, malformed--"

"_Malformed?!"_

"--bastard from Tortuga and I _hate you!_"

That did more than raise eyebrows. 

Jack cringed and held up his hands to placate her. "Now, now, Miss Swann, you promised you'd trust me--"

"I trusted you to take me to Isla de Muerta! I trusted you to take me home! I did _not _trust you to take me to - where the bloody hell are we - _ENGLAND!_ What the bloody _hell _ are we going to do in _ENGLAND_?!"

"Please, love, stop the screaming..." He looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the captain come barging down demanding explanations. "They'll hear..."

She drew herself up, planting her hands on her slim hips. "This is kidnapping."

"In some lights, I suppose--"

"You are a wretched, slimy, despicable, wretched--"

"You already said wretched," he kindly pointed out, ducking the slap he knew was coming. "Miss _Swann!_" She scanned the room, and he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that she was looking for something to hurl at him. He reached the water basin an instant before she did, snatching it out of her reach. "I'll have you know, darling, I'm of absolutely no use to you dead, and if you do manage to dash my brains out with this, who will protect you from the crew?"

Confusion clouded her features. "Ah, hadn't thought of that, had you? They're men, dear, and you're an attractive women... and you know what vile, despicable scalawags men turn into once they've had, say, rum, don't you?" He set the basin behind him, keeping both his hands between them. "They'll be on you before you can so much as squeak 'Wake up, Jack!'" His high-pitched imitation of her voice did nothing but make the budding scowl intensify. "Trust me on this one, love. And come now, don't kill me before you've heard my reasoning."

"Out with it."

Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all. One wrong move and she'd rip him apart with her bare hands. "There is a little item I need to pick up in County Kent. It's rather far inland so we may need to stay for a time. Upon my achievement of this object, we will depart and return home to Papa dearest and your lovely boring life."

She glared at him, and Jack threw down his last card. 

***

Jack yanked the pistol from its pack and began marching out the door. Elizabeth flung herself in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Commandeering the ship, darling, please move aside." When she refused to stand down, he rolled his eyes. "Dear, make up your mind. The only way we're going to get this ship headed back to your charming Port Royal will be a drastic act of piracy. Fortunately, I happen to be a pirate. Move aside." 

"With one pistol. Are you bloody mad?" When he raised his eyebrows at her, she placed a hand on the hand that held the gun. "Madder than I thought? Jack, they are armed to defeat pirates and there is one of you. One." The hand wavered. "And even if you did... the word would spread faster than your men could get to us. We would be done for."

Jack nodded slightly to her, though the gun did not lower. "You will accompany me to England, then, and not complain about it? Well... not complain terribly much?"

"No." When he lifted the gun threateningly, she stood her ground. "I will accompany you to England, but there is something I must do as well. If we're traveling all these miles, we might as well enjoy the sights." She cupped her hand around Jack's, applied gentle pressure. "I choose to bide my time..." She put her other hand over the first, pressing down with all her strength. "Put the damn thing down before someone sees you!"

"Don't even want to try it, love?" He seemed more puzzled by her than anything else. He set the gun back into its proper place, turning back to her before she could sneak away. Planting one hand on either side of her head, he leaned in close. Too close. Thoroughly invading her space. He seemed to do that once daily. Not that she was entirely sure she minded. 

"Captain, just what is it you plan on doing in England, if you do not mind my asking?" The sway of the ship emboldened her to lean toward him, to nearly press her body against his as she had once before. "County Kent? Why?"

"Sometimes..." Jack paused to take a deep breath, and her hair rustled when he exhaled. "Sometimes... one must act in a manner most peculiar to do the right thing." Before she could ask about_ doing the right thing_, he pulled away, taking his warmth with him. "Gerrarrd, dear, it's about Gerrarrd." 

_"_Gerrarrd this, Gerrarrd that. If you won't tell me anything, how can you expect me to help you?"

"I don't," he said bluntly. "I expect you to sit primly and nod and smile and do as I ask and not get yourself killed." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," she snapped, too furious to bother disagreeing with him anymore. "Meanwhile, _I_ will expect _you_ to act courteously in England. Do _not _go doing anything... _rash_." 

"It's called stupid, my dear." He surveyed the room, hands planted on his hips. "Your father and his pet will pop an eye once he realizes who you're with in England." The thought seemed to please him. 

"Can you do it, Jack?"

He looked at her.

"Can you do it? Can you be something... can you... _act... _something... can you step off this ship in England, and be as a man ought?"

Jack Sparrow brushed his hand against her cheek, and the familiar spark in his eye turned devious. "Aye, my lady, I believe that I can manage such a fete..." His slur smoothed into a pleasant, lilting accent. "...for a time, at least." 

And then he was gone.

***

Up on deck, Jack rubbed his hands together and permitted himself a most ungentlemanly cackle. The last card had been his finest, and Elizabeth Swann had played right into it. She'd even tried to play it back against him... the girl had a plan. Of course; she'd been keeping company with him, she was bound to start scheming on her own. He'd have to watch out for that.

But by Poseidon's staff, why the devil would she want to stay in England for any length of time? 

***

The last islands of the Caribbean slipped away as day gave way to dusk. 

He stood at the stern every day, just behind the wheelman, and watched.

During one of their suppers together, Elizabeth at last tired of the infallible grin that always seemed to be lurking just beneath his newly-somber countenance. "How can you smile at this? How can you smile at anything right now? Your world, your ship, your--"

He placed a hand over her mouth. "I'm choosing to see this as an adventure, Miss Swann, as you undoubtedly will at some point. I'm choosing to view this in light, rather than darkness." He raised his eyebrows at her over the glass of wine he held. "No, don't bother denying anything, Elizabeth... it hinges on my proposal."

She stared at him. "You're... proposing?"

Jack choked on his wine. "By the spirits, girl, nothing like that."

"I'm not a girl," she snapped. "You and your rum made certain of that." 

His smile tightened. "Keep blaming the rum, darling, denial is really quite attractive. Being that we will undoubtedly be living together - ah, yes, look away in distress - may I suggest posing as a married couple so not to attract any more attention than my dashing good looks will undoubtedly bring?"

_No, absolutely not, I will never... _no, he expected these retorts. It would make sense to keep a low profile. Instead, she downed the last of her wine. "Very well."

If the lack of response disappointed him, he did not show it. "Very good. As soon as we get there, I want you to inform your father that we're alive."

"God no." He would never let her stay in England - he'd send the bloody _fleet _after her. "What if the letter falls into the wrong hands? They'll be looking. You need to give it time, Jack. Opportune moments and all."

He studied her. "Why do I get the feeling there's an underlying motive here?"

"Because you're you." _ Because there is_, she wanted to say - but busied herself in wiping at her lips with her napkin. 

After supper, he paced: another new development. 

She watched him tread back and forth until she grew dizzy, dropping her head back against the pillow. "You've shut the door, who knows what the rest of the ship will think?"

"I'm rather beyond caring what the rest of the ship thinks." Jack picked up an apple and tossed it back and forth between his hands. "And as I understand it, you'll be getting off this tub with me, correct? I wonder what they'll think _then_."

"Why are we going to England?"

He started for the door, and Elizabeth tottered across the cabin and placed herself against the frame before she realized what she was doing. "Stop this! You're carting me off to England - the least you can do is tell me _why _we are bound there, and what you intend to do about Will."

Jack regarded her with the thoughtful stare he'd been developing as of late, and she bore up under his scrutiny. "Ephraim Gerrarrd is a product of His Majesty's Royal Navy," he said quietly. "And there are things, Miss Swann, that go back very far yet retain their value. Do you understand that?"

"Why must you be so cryptic?"

"Why must you be so feisty?"

Elizabeth permitted herself a very unladylike scowl. "Do I not even deserve to know why?"

"Why? Oh, of course. Well, you see, m'lady... certain papers will not be validated until such a time as you are returned to the ambient warmth of your father's arms. Being that I trust no one else in the immediate vicinity to see to your safe arrival, I had no choice but to 'cart you off to England' and keep an eye on you while Gerrarrd does his nasty business back home." 

"What the devil do you care about Gerrarrd and what he has up his sleeve? You've got the_ Pearl. _ You can go sailing off into the sunset and never have to worry about a thing again." She folded her arms. 

"You're quite right. I don't care about Gerrarrd, or anything he does - until it affects _me_." Jack's smile came back in full force. "And unfortunately, what he's thinking about does _indeed _affect my livelihood and general happiness on the high seas. That, dear, is the only reason I'm getting involved in this at all - so don't be getting your hopes up."

The anger that had been simmering shot into her hand, but Jack had caught it and pinned it above her head before she could reach his cheek. "Getting good at that, aren't I," he said.

"I'm not a child that needs looking after!"

"No... not a child. Certainly not. Perhaps... perhaps I had a devious intent after all, Miss Swann. Indeed... what would the stories say about the pirate who carted off the governor's daughter and had his way with her in England, much to her... distressed delight?"

Her breath caught. "You wouldn't dare." 

"Pirate," he said pointedly. 

"And a good man," she shot back. "Or was that a lie as well? Have you ever spoken a truth in your life, Captain Sparrow?"

He flashed another smile, releasing her hand. "When the mood takes me."

_(Next: Another peek into The Life & Times of The Turners! Jack and Elizabeth get to England! More silliness!)_

_(To the readers: I would like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I'm back in school and at work, and basically stopped writing for about three weeks. Getting the character voices and the tone of the story back took some doing. I apologize if this seems a little rough around the edges, because I acknowledge that it is - but I wanted to get something up for you. The next chapter should be sooner in coming, and much better. This is, essentially, a transition chapter - those are rarely fun. Ciao for now.) _


	18. Does It Come With a Pool?

The town of Dennot had never been a prominent mark on any maps.

It was possessed of a harbor, several stores, and a number of boarding houses.

Despite its small size, its location in relation to Kent County and Sheerness made it a likely place for travelers.

The majority of its population simply passed through from one time or another... and nothing extraordinary ever happened there.

Until they arrived... 

When _Dominica _tied up at the local docks, not many took a good look at her. Merchant ships were common enough in this little town, and they often toted along passengers for an extra fee. Certainly no one really noticed a rather grimy-looking Elizabeth Swann taking her first cautious steps off the vessel and instantly flailing around as the world tilted merrily abound her head. 

Jack deftly grabbed her arm. "Careful, dear. You'll walk into something."

"I'd forgotten about that," she muttered, blinking rapidly in an attempt to straighten things out. "It wasn't so bad when I was a little girl..." How long now, since she'd disembarked from that ocean voyage? Nine years? 

"Before you started spending your time embroidering and reading and practicing fine penmanship?" Jack escorted her down the dock, somehow manhandling their meager luggage at the same time. _Oh, if only you knew, Captain Sparrow. _He weaved back and forth ever so slightly, but she'd seen far worse from him. "Idle life does not lead to quick recoveries. You'll do all right soon enough. You simply need to walk it off."

The _walking it off _consisted mostly of the pair of them tottering away from _Dominica_, though Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder more than once to watch the ship growing smaller in the distance. How many times had she thought about tossing it all away and running off on a ship? Granted, not a fat little merchantman like _Dominica - _a vessel like _Black Pearl _or even _Wickedry_ would do. But here she was now, far from home, on the arm of a pirate... and with nothing to gain and nothing to lose.

Odd, how life turned out. 

They stopped as they reached the town proper. Elizabeth realized she was still clinging to Jack's arm and made some effort to hold herself steady. "So this is... what did you say it was?"

"Dennot, not terribly far from Sheerness. Not much to it, but--" 

He mentioned the name casually, but her grip tightened. "Isn't Sheerness host to a naval shipyard?"

He sent her a particularly dazzling smile. "You're quite the little cartographer, aren't you?" 

"Jack! Are you mad?"

He smiled charmingly. "How many times do you intend to ask me that, Miss - my dear? Clearly if you haven't been able to establish an answer by now, something's terribly wrong in that pretty head of yours. Now come along, we must find ourselves lodging before it gets dark." 

She trotted along beside him, dutifully aware of the terrible state of her clothing and hair. Jack, by contrast, looked bright and refreshed despite his own layer of grease - damn that man. "But Capt--ah, excuse me--why so close to Sheerness, if I may ask? Aren't you rather... well..."

"Popular?" Jack suggested. "Indeed I am. And what better place to hide than _right_ under the enemy's nose?"

*** 

Madness, plain and simple. That's all it could be. What else could have prompted Jack Sparrow to cut off his hair, sail to England under the guise of a quest, and then waltz into the nearest boardinghouse and cheerfully request a room? 

Elizabeth had never dreamed she would be staying in an establishment quite so seedy looking as Mr. Roland Fleming's would-be boarding house, and she had to swallow down her revulsion several times before managing to follow Jack inside. She would play the proper young wife if it killed her; she would look around and smile when spoken to and not draw any excess attention as dear Captain Sparrow doubtlessly would. Her father's lovely house in Port Royal had spoiled her rotten, and this became evident as she had to fight increasingly hard to keep a politely disinterested look on her face as Mr. Fleming discussed the renting out of rooms to Jack. 

The landlord looked between the pair of them. "It'll be eight shillings, and I shall need your names."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, then remembered this was Jack's duty. She had some coins tucked about her few belongings, but they would be used up swiftly enough. This was Jack's idea; certainly he would have prepared for it. 

His mouth opened. And stayed that way while the landlord stared at them. "...what do you say to _ten _shillings - and we forget the names?"

***

After they were chased out, they sat at the docks in silence. "I can't believe we didn't think up a name." 

***

Dragging her meager possessions all over Dennot wouldn't have been quite so irritating had Jack not decided to trek back and forth across the town before settling on one boarding house and marching in with his usual good humor. Elizabeth hung back while he introduced himself to a Mr. Quinton Cade, announcing his name as Jack Kendrick_, here with me lovely young wife... certain family members took a bit o'distaste to our union, if you understand me_. The last bit said with a wink, and Elizabeth managed not to roll her eyes. 

Quinton Cade sized her up with a sly grin. "Runnin' away from yer father, lassie?"

"Yes," she said instantly. When Jack jabbed her lightly in the back, she smothered a cough. "He didn't like the looks of my husband," she explained, trying to rough up her accent a bit. 

His small wife peered around his shoulder. "Why's he not like the looks? E'en _I's _don't mind the looks!"

"Mind your tongue, Constance."

Jack smiled winningly and, quite astonishingly, said absolutely nothing. 

"The streets get a little loud at night. Sometimes we get the spilloffs from Sheerness if they get discharged. You'll want to keep your little lassie close at hand, I think." Mr. Cade pressed a key into Jack's hand. "How long do you think to be staying with us?"

"Oh, not very," he said breezily. "We're passing through while I tend to a few matters - accounts and the like, and I'd rather my lovely bride be here with me than at the mercy of her father." Jack turned to her, the very picture of sincerity. "What was it he called me, darling?"

"A pirate?" She asked sweetly. "A pirate - not to be confused with a _good _pirate, merely a pirate in the sense that--" Fortunately the Cades paid Jack no mind as he subtly jammed his elbow into her ribs. 

"'E's no pirate," Mrs. Cade said. "Far too handsome!"

"Mind your _tongue_, Constance!"

"Pirates can be quite handsome..." Jack didn't wince when Elizabeth sank her fingernails into his jacket sleeve. "...I've been told." 

***

"You're a bloody fool, Jack," she said as he opened the door. 

"So I've been told, so I've been told. There now! Not terribly bad, is it? A mite small, certainly not captain's fare, but for fleeing landlubbers such as ourselves..." He surveyed the tiny room and the offshoot alcove that probably held the bed. "...it's not... too bad..."

Elizabeth looked around and said nothing. Jack took it upon himself to march around grandly, poking and prodding at the sticks that passed for furniture. "For example, it's better than anything in Tortuga! Except, perhaps, Leteita's place, but I won't tell you about that. Why the sad face, darling? Wasn't it you who complained of a boring life back on our island? Look! All your dreams have come to fruition!"

Elizabeth slipped past him and stared at the little niche that passed for the bedroom. She'd never lived in such close quarters in her life - even Barbossa's quarters on the _Black Pearl _had possessed the tattered elegance of finery and room to _breathe_.

In the main living area, Jack continued looking around. "At least there's a hearth of sorts... for what we're paying there better be... look, a potato..." 

Well then - this was Jack's little adventure, after all. She could play this game too. And to start... 

She hurled her belongings onto the bed. "Mine."

"Hold fast, why do _you _get the bed?"

"Because I'm the woman."

"Well, I'm the man, and I want the bed."

"It's mine. There's plenty of room on the floor, and a dashing pirate like you wouldn't want me to be upset, now would you?"

He tried again. "I'm the _captain_, and I _command _you to give me the bed."

She put her hands on her hips. "It's mine. Would you care to fight for it?" 

"Perhaps we could... share it."

They both looked at the bed.

There would be no earthly way for both of them to fit on it, unless...

"In order for both of us to use that bed, it would require... entwining of limbs..." Elizabeth coughed politely into her hand. "Something I am not quite ready to attempt with you in these parts, Captain."

"I can be quite a gentleman when entwined, I'll have you know."

She pointed out the door, and much to her surprise, Jack grunted and trudged back into the main room. "You'd better at least leave me with blankets, woman. England gets bloody cold." 

***

There was no real supper. Elizabeth hadn't needed to cook a proper meal in years, and Jack's idea of sustenance involved going outside and "politely, creatively" robbing one of the street vendors as they closed up shop. Instead, they feasted on the lone potato after rolling it around in the hearth for a time and retreated to their respective bedspaces relatively satiated, if not content.

_Tomorrow... he has to go get something tomorrow, doesn't he? He's not just going to let us... starve... _She had no idea how much money Jack had managed to cram into his various effects, but even pirates had to bloody _eat. _And if he wouldn't, well... 

At least the Cades had provided bedding of a sort. 

Now that she thought of it, hadn't Jack wanted a blanket?

Shivering in the cold, she took one of the blankets off the bed and tiptoed into the main room. 

"Couldn't sleep, love?"

She gave a little shriek and leaped back as she saw him silhouetted in the window. He chuckled. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I..." _Give him the blanket and leave. _ "It's cold... I thought you'd... want another blanket." She held it out.

He came forward, accepted it. "Thank you." 

"You should sleep. It's... dark." _ Well-done, Miss Swann._

"Aye. Soon enough." 

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could almost make out the downturned features. "What are you looking at?"

"Just the town." He barely glanced back over his shoulder again, a dry chuckle rasping out of his throat. "Miserable little place we've come to, isn't it? I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into this."

"Oh, speak for yourself, you notorious rogue," she said, drawing her own blanket stiffly over her shoulders. "You and your... _quest_." 

"You're the one who just _had _to go sailing with your damned commodore, you know. If you'd just stayed home as a proper lady ought, you would be safely dreaming of your blacksmith and I would not be forced to endure your shrillness for any great length of time, though I am starting to find you peculiarly endearing which doubtlessly means I'm losing what sense I have left. Kindly go to sleep, Miss Swann - _Mrs. _Kendrick - good-night."

"You make my head hurt," she muttered, trudging back to her little hole in the wall. The bed was hard and the blankets thin, but she'd made do before with far worse. It would last her until the morning.

In the morning... in the morning, she would take stock. In the morning, she would leave dear Captain Jack to his own devices and see what there was to be done in Dennot, and see about getting some food into her belly.

In the morning...

_Will, what are you doing now? Are you home yet? Are you safe? _

***

Noble Bay

The Caribbean 

Will drew circles in the sand by the bones of the old ship and watched the rise and fall of the tide.

Beneath the new gloves on his hands, his flesh sported bite marks courtesy of his sire. He dared not call Bootstrap Bill his father; not yet. There was little of the man he remembered in the tortured dark eyes... little of _any _man. Sometimes it would flash just enough to give him hope: the warm spark, the slow but genuine smile. It always turned into the feral snarl, the heated gaze. The teeth. 

_I never thought a human being could bite that hard_. He etched curling waves around one of the circles, then abruptly wiped it away as he realized what he drew. _Elizabeth. I wish you were here. _

Yet it was so much bloody _easier _without her presence. He didn't need to impress her, didn't need to be constantly on his guard. Playing nursemaid to his mad father might not have been the most enticing use of his blacksmith skills, but he was making a difference. His father... here to late to help him become a man. 

"Where were you five years ago," he muttered to the sand. "Where were you when I _needed _a father?"

"Sailing the high seas in search of treasure," a voice behind him responded. "Or, if that was in reference to your father, sleeping with the fishes... rather literally."

Gerrarrd.

One of the pirate's boots paused next to him. "You stare out to sea long and often, lad. What's troubling you?"

"He's not getting better," he said. 

"It takes roughly half the time of a duration to undo damage. In your father's case, four years should be sufficient. Your friend Sparrow said that."

Gerrarrd had been startlingly forthright in answering questions he had - so long as Will didn't try any escape hijinks. Sitting here on the beach, with the captain in a placid mood, he decided another question might be in order. "How do you know J... Captain Sparrow?"

After a moment's contemplation, Gerrarrd sat down beside him. "We sailed together." 

_There. A start! _"Sailed where?"

"Wherever our captain ordered us, lad. He was a fine man... loved by the crew, respected by the officers; 'twas he who taught me what command should be." The pirate mulled over it a moment longer. "I suppose Jack learned something from him as well, though in practice he applied it rather badly when first setting out."

"The mutiny," Will said.

"That... yet he still does it now. With captaincy there is respect, but there must also be a certain amount of... fear." Gerrarrd breathed in the sea air, and a smile curved his thin mouth. "A crew may respect you to a point, but if they cannot fear you one way or another they will never respect you _fully_. And once that respect is gone... that leaves them free to act as they should not. Does that make a bit of sense?"

Will tried to sound earnest. "I suppose so." Jack Sparrow, ruling by fear? It didn't seem _possible_, much less probable. Still, who was to say he couldn't? "I don't understand something. Captain Sparrow is a fine swordsman, and a good shot. Why...?"

"Why didn't they respect him? Because they're pirates, lad, and pirates respect only after they've seen a bit of blood. Generally speaking." The captain stood up, extending a hand to help Will to his feet. "Let's go check on your father, shall we?"

***

Bill Turner crouched in his hellhole and knew no peace.

_Bootstrap, I'm Bootstrap or am I not where is the man with the cape and the cap this man is not who he ought to be..._

"Your son is here to see you, Bootstrap."

_Son son I have a son yes his name is William isn't it I'm not sure I don't know anything anymore..._

"Hello, Father. How are you today?"

William Little Bill there you are...

"Whaaaazzuuuurrrrrrr." It was his voice, but nothing that could be recognized as legible speech. Bootstrap knew this and tried to correct it. "Hrrrrrr..."

Sometimes words functioned as they should, but other times they did not. The look on his son's face confirmed that it did not work. 

"He's making progress, we think. Perhaps you could start taking him on long walks." 

_Ephraim, that is Ephraim._

"What good will that do?"

"It will build up his strength, give him some air."

"He might bite me again."

"Part of the game, lad... it's all part of the game." 

_Ephraim Gerrarrd, yes I know you I know you well not a traitor yet but not enough loyalty to fill a shoe... I know what you are... _

But for the life of him he could not remember what. 

Historical notes: Around the time that this tale takes place, Sheerness would indeed have been host to a naval shipyard. I thought about placing the story directly in it, but opted against that... Dennot is a sort of 'everytown' - a mishmash of people and their occupations, some of whom are set firmly in the time period and some who are not. The movie itself had a sort of mucky time quality to it so I'm cashing in on that. 

(Acacia: I have not forgotten about Will; his story will be told in a different manner. Rest assured that it WILL be told in graphic detail and living color when the time is right. There will be no shortage of Will in future installations, or anyone else for that matter. I hope this puts some minds at ease. 

To clear up any other misconceptions, this _ is _a story where Jack and Liz are primarily the main characters. I am focusing on them much more in Part I [which is what this is] because they are the catalysts, setting things into motion. If you have problems with this, it might not be the story for you. Thanks, come again. 

At the moment I am tweaking the plot - basically trying to cut down on the projected length and tighten the story. Next part may be slow to come, but I do hope to have the entire thing done by March. Keep in mind that _Silence _is one of three... what have I gotten myself into?) 


	19. Smoke and Mirrors

November 1687

Sixteen weeks after the **Wickedry **docked in Noble Bay

_ I feel... cold. _

The pirate dropped to the ground with a thud, and Will Turner's eyes opened into the darkness of his cabin aboard the pirate ship _Wickedry._

Blood. Death. 

No.

It is only natural that I think of these things. I am on a ship that reeks of death even now. He wasn't sure what the reek of death smelled like, but he imagined it to be just like_ Wickedry**. **_He stood up, splashed tepid water on his face from the basin near his berth. The ship's rocking and yawning had become almost secondhand to him on this cruise; _thank you, Father_, he thought with a sad little smile. _Your pirate's blood is in me even now._

How Will Turner fell from grace. Gerrarrd had given him free rein aboard the vessel, had even gone so far as to instruct the crew not to hamper him in anything he wished to do. Will could wander as he liked so long as he didn't touch anything... he had even found himself helping tack ship one day. He hadn't liked the job much, but much to his horror he seemed to have an affinity for it. 

On the fifth day, he watched a group of sailors trying to repair a broken cannon. _No, not that way_, he wanted to say. Working near the docks had given Will several opportunities to work on the guns of both _Dauntless _and _Interceptor_, and he almost wanted to tell the sailors what they were doing wrong. 

Almost. 

On the sixth day, a ship with patched sails appeared on the horizon.

"Can't be rightfully identifying her, sir," Dugald said as Gerrarrd took the spyglass from him. "No build as I've seen..."

Gerrarrd handed the glass to Will, who peered through it gingerly. He knew that bow - though admittedly, last time he'd seen it from this angle, it had been surrounded by storm and fog. "I know that ship."

"_Black Pearl_," Gerrarrd said matter-of-factly.

"Can't be, sir - her sails--"

"It's not so difficult to change a ship's sails, Dugald," he snapped. "Though you may seem to make it so."

"Shall we run out the guns, sir?"

The captain studied the ship for a long moment, and Will held his breath. Jack must have gotten off the island and gotten back to his ship - why else would she be following so closely? And if Jack were there... perhaps Elizabeth was with him - or at least safe in Port Royal, away from this mess.

Gerrarrd smiled. "No. Not unless she starts closing on us. Back to your duties, men," he snarled at the group of sailors who had closed ranks to watch the other ship. "I'll not have ye sittin' about slack-jawed while we be chased. Move along!" When they moved, he lowered his voice and smiled at Will. "So Cap'n Sparrow still has that damningly naive loyalty, does he?"

"You wouldn't kill him, would you?"

Gerrarrd only smiled.

***

Anamaria faced the helm of _Black Pearl _as Captain Soledad and wondered if the ship hated her. 

Gibbs had identified _Wickedry _nearly the instant she had pulled out ahead of them, though the wind was not yet strong enough to push them any closer. _Pearl _already carried all sail, making excellent time for most intents and purposes. But not for this one. Not this one. _Wickedry _already had a good head start and the wind did not feel like cooperating. 

Anamaria flagged Gibbs over to the wheel. "What chance have we to catch 'em?"

"_Wickedry _outguns us, Captain - you remember when last we took her on!" _Yes; Jack did not like what they did to _Pearl. "If the wind holds--"

"Run out the fo'ard guns," she ordered.

"But Anamaria--"

"_Captain Soledad_," she snapped, and to hell with what the ship thought of her. "If the wind turns fresh we'll not miss a chance."

"Aye, Captain," Gibbs said wearily, no doubt cursing the deity that had sent him Anamaria Soledad as his commanding officer. He turned to Cotton and Matheson, making a cutting gesture with his hand. "You heard her!"

***

"They're running out their tops, Captain," Dugald reported.

Gerrarrd didn't look up from his maps. "So Sparrow has decided to make a fight of it. Good for him." 

Will looked over the aft rail again and wondered if Jack would ever do anything so bluntly obvious as coming from behind. "You have fifteen more cannon than she," he said. Though _Black Pearl _approached _Wickedry _much as she had _Interceptor _all those months ago, she looked distinctly less ominous. The lack of storm clouds around her did wonders for her general appearance. 

"Thank you, Mr. Turner, for your informed opinion," Gerrarrd said, snapping the map shut and handing it to one of his subordinates. "Come about." 

"Come _about_?" Will squawked as the helmsman spun the wheel. _Wickedry _began to heel around, and his stomach reeled in response. "You can't mean to engage them!"

"I mean exactly what I say, Mr. Turner." Ephraim Gerrarrd had a truly horrible smile as he rubbed his hands together. "As you will soon discover." 

***

_ Wickedry _made the best of her broad beam, dipping into a trough and forcing her bow around. Aboard _Black Pearl_, no one needed a spyglass to see what Gerrarrd intended to do. Gibbs squeezed the rail. "She's coming about!" 

"Maintain course!" Anamaria yelled from the wheel. "Duncan, take her. Do _not _back down!" 

She joined Gibbs at the rail. "I give 'er three minutes if she takes two seconds," he said. "She has a good even keel and--"

"Prepare to fire!"

"_Anamaria_!" He recoiled, astounded. "She'll _rake _us if she can pass us--"

Anamaria had a terrifying feral glint in her eye. "_If_! Roil out the guns and let 'er feast on what she wants - take her deck!" She grabbed his shirt collar when he made to protest again, hauling him right up against her face. "If blood is to be spilled this day, then _we _will cut first!" Shoving him aside, she pointed at the gun crews. "_FIRE!_"

***

The first shot took off Stephen O'Brian's head, and the second tore underneath the decking with a rumble. Will grabbed for a rope, barely staying upright as _Wickedry _lurched in protest of the violation. O'Brian's head - what remained of it - landed in front of his boots, and fortunately two more shots wheeled by overhead, sparing him from any immediate nausea. Around him, men screamed as they were pierced by splinters or lashed by loose ropes. 

His mind swam drunkenly. Jack _ never _aimed for the decks - he went for the rig, for the rudder, for the things that would not harm too many. This much he knew... mostly because Elizabeth turned out to be a veritable plethora of useless information about the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. 

Gerrarrd kicked O'Brian's smashed head aside. "Sparrow must have misplaced himself." So he noticed it, too. "Well, lads, give him what he wants!"

_ No_, Will mouthed, _no no no_... 

"Fire!"

***

The first shots splashed wide as _Black Pearl _steered clear, but two others tore through the sails. Anamaria shouted incomprehensibly, and _Pearl _turned her head to counter _Wickedry_'sattempt at a broadside. Smoke and flame singed anyone nearby, and Gibbs covered his ears as _Pearl _answered the call by dropping a full broadside on Gerrarrd's ship. 

Wood snapped and canvas gave way, and _ Pearl_'s crew cheered as the ship seemed to back off slightly. Could it be done? _Reload, reload_, Anamaria screeched. Half-deaf from the guns, the men nonetheless went about it as _Pearl _strove in deeper. Gibbs grinned, his doubts assuaged. Even now, it seemed _Wickedry _might back away, perhaps damaged under the waterline.

Then her head turned, and he found himself facing the full, fearsome broadside that had so terrified mariners for years.

_ Or perhaps it is a trick of the wind... _

"Get down! Get down!" 

Fire bloomed from _Wickedry_'s port side. 

Gibbs did not dare hope that Gerrarrd's return volley would be anything short of full force. _Pearl _staggered as three shots tore her forward hull open, the deck underneath his feet dropping almost instantly as water seeped in through the new wounds. He caught sight of Anamaria's shocked face: _did she really think he would not turn on us? Did she really think..._

"He has us now," he said. "We can still turn back!"

"Forward hold is filling, Captain!"

_ If she's killed _ Pearl_, Jack will never forgive her. _"Anamaria, we have to go--" 

"I won't turn from a fight!"

"Listen to me, woman! This is not your little boat that a bucket will bail out - this is _Black Pearl. _She's too big to take chances on, and right now _that thing _is going to get us." The indecision in her eyes flickered, and Gibbs wasted precious seconds by putting his hands on her shoulders and trying to be comforting. "I know you've never run from a fight in your life - but we must fight another day, Captain Soledad. Get him another day!"

The indecision that lingered in her eyes gradually shifted to resignation. "Stand down," she whispered. Gibbs did not repeat the order, but rather nodded to the three sailors gathered around him. 

_ Black Pearl_, battered but not broken, turned her back on certain death so that one day she might strike again. 

***

When _Black Pearl _pulled out of the chase, Will's fingernails dug into his palms until blood oozed from the dents. _Damn you, Jack Sparrow! Damn you to hell! _He'd lost interest, had he? No easy way out, and so he would leave an old friend to rot. 

"Bored already," Gerrarrd said. "His attention span was never anything special."

Will didn't respond to him; didn't even look at him. Instead, he turned shortly and marched to the little cabin below that they'd set up for Bootstrap Bill, ignoring the little trail of blood that his torn hands left. 

Below, the air was cool and damp, and the only sound came from _Wickedry_'sflanks as she cut through the water. Boostrap Bill had been locked away, though a porthole afforded his cabin plenty of light. Will shoved the door open without knocking, eager for a tussle with the man who had once been his father. Anything was better than standing around lamenting the end of a rescue attempt.

Bootstrap did not rush him. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. Someone had held him down long enough to give him a shave, and that - coupled with the good food he'd been eating, and regular sunlight - had begun to restore his looks. _I do look like him_, Will thought ruefully, shutting the door behind him. _Or maybe now, he looks like me. _"Well, aren't you going to leap at me? Or snarl, or bite, or do something similarly atrocious to make me wonder why I still bother? Come on, this is your big chance! Rip me to pieces, damn you, I couldn't feel any worse than I do now!" When Bootstrap failed to stir, Will balled his hand into a fist, ignoring the shards of pain from his torn flesh, and banged it into the wall as hard as he could. "_DO SOMETHING GOD DAMN YOU!_"

His voice built to a roar and reverberated off the walls, and as _Wickedry _dipped into a trough it seemed she tried to lean away from his fury. He almost couldn't hear what happened next over the pounding in his ears.

"Wills?"

The voice was thin, as though it had not been used in quite some time. It moved gingerly over the nickname, testing it - scarcely more than a whisper. Will froze, unwilling to believe. The last time he'd heard that...

_ Good-bye, dear Wills! I'll be sendin' ye something shiny soon enough, once I make my fortune I'll send for you and your mama, and you be a good lad, now. That's my Wills!_

The downcast face lifted, and through the fog of madness in Bootstrap Bill's dark eyes, he saw a touch of warmth - and hope - he had not seen since he was a boy. "Wills?"

All of his anger dripped out of him like the blood from his hands, and he moved mechanically to the side of his father's small berth. Easing next to him, he took one of the limp hands in his own, squeezing it as carefully as he dared. "Papa," he said quietly. "Papa, I'm here." 

***

As the sun dipped below the horizon and turned the sky a flaming gold, Joshamee Gibbs came upon Anamaria Soledad in the captain's quarters and tried to ignore her brooding look. "The ship will live, Captain. We've patched the worst of it and when we can put in at Tortuga to fix the rest." 

"I almost killed us all today," she said, staring into the goblet. "I'm not fit to command."

"You're fit as anyone, Soledad. We all make our mistakes."

"I almost sank the damned ship, Joshamee!"

The old salt in him longed to lecture her on the merits of women aboard ships, but Anamaria had proven her worth too many times to be taken down like that. Joshamee Gibbs had never fancied himself to be much of a gentleman, but he found it in himself to put a hand on her shoulder, sitting beside her. "So you learned. You can't go runnin' into battle and not expect to get a few lashes. Y'think Jack didn't do the same once? Why, that lad went through two ships before he got t'_Pearl_, an' she was the first not to sink from under him!"

Anamaria stood up and limped out the door, looking out at twilight over the ocean. "I never knew you could run from a fight. I just... never learnt it."

"We didn't run," he said. "We... had a prior engagement that we forgot about. There's no shame in it, Anamaria. We'll come back and get him." 

"Yes... but... _Wickedry _is a powerful ship. And there will be hell to pay one way or another, but... we may need..." Making up her mind about something, she turned to Gibbs. "Joshamee, I'll be wanting ye to take a missive to the good Commodore right shortly. It's of a great importance, so mind your manners while there."

"Wait..." Gibbs sprinted to catch up with her as she began striding toward the wheel. "Why've I got to do it? The Commodore'll string me up..."

"He knows you, and he's not strung you up yet. He won't meet with me... I'm a woman." The bitter edge to her voice quickly smoothed away. "You, at least, will be able to get through his cronies."

"You're the Captain... Captain. By all rights, it's you he should be speaking with."

She stopped at the stairwell, looking out over the rail at the rolling sea. "If he'll agree to see me, then make it so, Joshamee Gibbs. If not, then I'll be trusting in ye to take him what we know."

Gibbs nodded. "As you say." For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Gerrarrd had broken through Anamaria's rouse - if he knew Jack Sparrow was indeed not on the _Pearl. _The only way he'd know, though, was if he had killed the man himself... 

He opted not to think about that. 

"Get comfy, Ephraim Gerrarrd," she said, and he was pleased to see that the defeated look had gone out of her eyes. "Y'may think yourself safe for now... but one day there will come a reckoning betwixt yours and mine. Mark my words on that." 

----

_Because the movie never really had any set date or even really a season, I took a liberty or two with it... if my November thing seems too far-out, please tell me (meaning the events in the movie would have been March-April-ish). I know it looked very summary in the movie, but I regret I haven't visited the Caribbean during the spring so I'm not sure what it's like._

Calendar - rest assured there will be plenty more!

Vibe - Will can use a bit of gnawing now and then. Uh oh. That sounded sexual.

Raquedan - did I mention your name is intriguing sounding? Yes, I am absolutely out of my mind! It is one of three... I am nuts. But hey, what better than to go nuts over the sweet banquet of the Pirates...

CJ - glad you're enjoying it! Read on.

lostfallenangel - why thank you ;D

Hereswith & Tabbycat2000 - Bootstrap's situation is one of the hardest to write. I'm glad you guys are following it and liking it - I've never tried writing an insane dude before. What poor Will must think of him.

ErinRua - thank you for recommending me! I am honored. :) Some good stuff on that page! 

Next time, on _Pirates: _What _do _you do with an unemployed pirate?


	20. What to do With an Unemployed Pirate

**November-December, 1687**

**Dennot, England**

Of all the things that Elizabeth Swann had learned during her admittedly-brief tenure in life, it was that if given the opportunity, something would go drastically wrong.

One such event happened not long after their arrival in Dennot.

"The roads are closed," Jack announced, striding in without one of his customary grand entrances. Elizabeth blinked, looking up from the repairs she had been making to her dress. He paced around the tiny room, waving his hands about with indignant irritation. "Do you believe that? They've closed off the roads! His Majesty's bloody troops posted and ready to turn us back."

"So we are effectively trapped here?"

He folded his arms over his chest and huffed. "Yes."

"That's lovely." She went back to the repairs, carefully fixing a seam. She had decided to give up on expressing actual anger with Jack nearly the day after they'd gotten there; it only seemed to goad him into trying to bait her further. "And may I ask, _what _is so bloody important? What's out there that you must have."

"You wouldn't understand."

_ Of course not. I'm just Lizzie Swann, after all. _"You're a pirate. I'm sure you'll come up with a plan."

"I'm not a landlubber," he muttered, before stalking back out and slamming the door behind him.

She had gone out seeking a job the very next day.

Working had never occurred to her back in Port Royal, though her most excruciating moments of ladylike boredom had led her to ponder the life of a lower-class woman. She knew of two options open to her, neither of which sounded particularly appealing: prostitute and servant. While Dennot did not possess a stunning amount of either, there were enough to suggest it might be viable... if things became desperate.

That is, until she saw the seamstress's tiny store, tucked back from the street.

"I found a job," she said to Jack over a thin potato stew.

He paused with spoon still in mouth, staring at her. When his gaze dropped to her chest, she knew what he was thinking. He swallowed the stew, lowered the spoon. "A... job," he said carefully. "And... what sort of job would that be?"

"I use my hands often," she said, deciding to have a bit of fun with him. "It takes work, but it is ultimately rewarding. All sorts of people..." Watching the expression on his face shift from thoughtful to potentially-amazed was perhaps the most rewarding thing she'd seen since leaving the Caribbean. "...and the pay, well, it's not bad... I may require your help from time to time--"

"I would be pleased to acquiesce," he said.

"--in case there's too much for me to handle--"

"--er--" Jack paled.

She would have liked to have carried on the game, but the look on his face was too priceless to continue. "Jack, don't look so worried! I work for a seamstress. Decorative fittings, for now. It seems there's call for them."

He blinked. "You're... embroidering?"

"Yes."

"You... embroider?"

She scowled. "I have _many _skills."

"Oh." He went back to eating.

_ Hmph. Captain Guttermind indeed. _There had been no further discussion of it, save Jack's query if her earnings would pay rent until he could find a way to get around the twice-damned road system of County Kent. She had responded that she didn't know, and the subject had been dropped.

Now she worked on her stitches, half-listening to the chatter of the two girls also in the employ of the seamstress. Mary and Hermione spoke more than they sewed, though their skills were enough to make up for the lag when they put their minds to it.

Which was not terribly often.

"Ye don't have to work so bloody hard," Mary said after watching Elizabeth rip out six stitches and redo them for the third time. "He won't be picking up that coat for another week."

Their accents had been hard to decipher at first, though Hermione still retained traces of some education in proper speaking. Mary, on the other hand... well, the faster she spoke, the less sense she made. "I just - I don't like to be idle," she said. _I don't want to leave it to the last minute _might well make them laugh at her.

"Slow down your cross-stitch. That's why you keep stumbling o'er that," Hermione said. "You've been here a week now, and we've heard nary a peep from you. Be you married, Elizabeth Kendrick?"

_ Married, am I married? Supposedly. Actually, I'm technically living in sin with a pirate, but I won't tell you that. _"Yes."

"Well... what's his name?"

Hermione and Mary would probably take her lack of a story as a dislike for speaking with them - and they had already favored her with suspicious looks after hearing how she spoke. Best to make friends with a story. "His name is Jack. Jack Kendrick. Like me. I'm Elizabeth Kendrick." She paused as they smiled. "We're... living at Cade's boardinghouse for the time being... while he looks for work."

"Running from the father?" Hermione asked knowingly.

Elizabeth blinked. "Well, yes." _I don't actually know why we're here. Something about a pirate and important business to be taken care of. I need to get a story straight._

"My da's not too fond of my Thomas. Disowned me when I married beneath me. But he's a right good man, he is. I'm teachin' him to read, and he's teaching me... other things." The glow of her smile told exactly what those _other things _were. Fortunately, Elizabeth had become a bit too worldly to blush. "He's a stablehand at Lord Owlsley's manor by the hillside. Sometimes he takes me riding on the Lord's castoffs. Good man, the Lord Owlsley is; he sends us his shirts out o'kindness."

"Sometimes other things too?" Mary queried.

"Hush, you."

She came home that night to find Jack staring out the window at a torchlit meeting going on across the street. "Jack, I think--"

"Have you heard the latest gossip?"

"What?" She hung up her cloak and investigated the pantry's contents. There was not much to be found.

"It's said that William of Orange may invade."

Elizabeth shut the pantry and stared at him. "What? Why?"

"Haven't you heard the _stories_, dear? It appears dear James is most displeasing these days... a shame, too..."

"Is that why the roads are closed?"

"I wager it has something to do with it." Jack turned away from the window and looked at her ruefully. "I would have been happy to go out and fetch what I need anyway... but you've rather... complicated things."

"I? How so?"

"Why, you've gone and become respectfully employed! Shutting you up in the place while I cavort about County Kent will only raise eyebrows." He took the potato she offered him and began peeling it. "Nor am I keen on leaving you. Too many things could happen. I don't trust Quentin Cade as far as I could throw him."

"But you are the great and powerful Jack Sparrow," she said, picking up a parcel of salt that had cost more than she was willing to remember. "Surely you could throw him quite far." She supposed it would be too much to be pleased that he had expressed any concern for her. Somewhere deep down, she was quite sure that Jack held a smidgen of friendly affection for her, probably something similar to what she felt for him. After all their adventures together, goodness...

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for another potato. "Your compliments make me want to sweep you off your feet and forfeit the money your father owes me."

"Really, Jack, you do make a lady feel wanted."

"Don't butter me up. Potato."

"That was the last of them," she said.

He looked at the potato with new respect. "The last of his breed."

"Spare me your sentimentalities and boil him."

"Heartless wench."

"Foolish mortal."

He dumped the potato into the boiling water. "Relentless she-devil."

"Bad pirate."

He stuck out his lower lip. "Now that's just cruel."

"All's fair in love and war."

"And which of those would pertain to your feelings for me, Miss Swann?" He looked at her with raised eyebrows, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

She studied him. "If you caught fire while stirring that, it would be quite funny."

"As always, you answer my questions succinctly."

Life in Dennot went on quite unremarkably as days turned into weeks. Elizabeth found her stitches improving, and soon she could converse rapidly with Hermione and Mary and work at the same time. The money she earned from her embroidery scarcely covered food bills, but seeing that she managed to contribute in her own way - well, that was enough for the time being.

Jack, however...

He went out each day, presumably to find work. _He's probably robbing people_, Elizabeth thought as she bade Hermione farewell at the end of her day. _How else could we pay rent? _Unless good Captain Sparrow - _oh, pardon, Mr. Kendrick_ - had methods of procuring silver from thin air, he almost certainly went about it in a nefarious manner. The fact that she barely minded it anymore probably spoke volumes about their ragged state in this little town, but Elizabeth Swann Kendrick found it hard to care.

She stopped to purchase a loaf of bread from one of the villagers as day became dusk, half-listening to a conversation nearby. "Ye'd best drop it there, laddie, if ye wish to live."

The voice sounded almost like Anamaria, and she turned in its direction as the baker counted the coins she handed him. A tall, slim woman shielded by a cape spoke to a man nearly as large as she, clutching a bag. "I believe the rightful owner be _that _way."

"You'd best get along, dear," the baker said. "This may get ugly. Erisa is one of the finer bounty hunters... miss?"

Elizabeth had long-since forgotten him, watching spellbound as the man with the bag pulled a dagger from his belt. The crowds fanned back, but this woman - Erisa? - calmly doffed her cape. Beneath it, she wore a man's trousers and shirt - and carried a sword.

She stared, utterly transfixed, as Erisa locked blades with the thief. He may have been handy with his dagger, but Erisa was simply magnificent, sweeping her steel underneath his and sending it spinning to the ground. A flick of her wrist and the man dropped the bag, clutching his now-bleeding arm. Erisa picked up the bag, checked its contents, and handed it to a lad no more than ten. He whispered a thanks and vanished back into the crowd.

"Go about your business," Erisa said to the gathered masses. They hurried to oblige.

Elizabeth took her change from the baker and all but sprinted home, her blood aflame.

She nearly smashed into Mr. Cade as she sprinted up the stairway. After hurriedly apologizing, she flung open the door and startled Jack into dropping his mug. "I saw a woman!"

"A _woman?!" _Jack began jumping around to mimic her. "You saw a woman! Alert the Commodore! Stow the guns! Dip the ensign! A _woman!_"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and grabbed his hands, spinning in a circle. "You don't understand - she fought - with a sword! She was _good_!"

Jack just looked at her, apparently not making the connection. "A sword! Sword-swinging women!" He linked arms and danced around in a circle, glad their earlier arguments had been forgotten. "We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up m'hearties, yo-ho!"

"I want you to teach me."

He stopped his dancing. "I've heard that from you before and will never live it down."

"No - I want you to teach me to use a sword."

He placed both his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward, smiling warmly. "Dear, the day I put a sword into your hands is the day I sign my own death warrant."

"I wouldn't use it on _you_... well... not often..."

"I'm hardly suicidal, Mrs. Kendrick."

"But - to defend myself! In case you go wandering..."

"You'll need to get me drunk. Very drunk," he decided.

Her good spirits faded, and for the first time since their arrival she looked at Jack coldly. "Look at my hands, _husband_," she said, lifting them for him to see. "I toil away for long hours and barely manage to feed us, while you - what? What do you do, Jack? _You _dragged us here. If you cannot find a way out of Dennot, perhaps it's best if we just go home."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, marching to the bedroom and slamming the door.

When she left for work the next morning, he was already gone.

Jack decided early on that he would not make much of a shepard.

It was all Elizabeth's fault, really. She'd gone and gotten herself a job nearly the instant they stepped off the ship - how the devil had she done it? And now... well, he would be damned if Elizabeth Swann could land a steady income and he couldn't.

_ I'm working as a seamstress_, she informed him haughtily as she hung up a new cloak. He eyed the cloak, then her with trepidation. _One of their girls died of the fever and they need someone with a quick stitch. _

You... embroider? He'd asked cautiously.

She had drawn herself up. _I have many skills._

_Apparently._

For some reason, she hadn't slapped him. 

That did leave him with the uncomfortable task of gaining some form of meaningful employment - or at least meaningful income - preferably the latter. So far he'd lifted three shillings off of various individuals and none had been the wiser. The look on Elizabeth's face when he dumped the money on their kitchen table had been one of thoughtful annoyance; she hadn't even needed to open her mouth. He simply sighed, turned around, and went back out into Dennot to find himself something to do.

One of the sheep nudged him and bleated piteously. He reached out a tentative hand and patted it. "There there, now... sheepy..."

Oh, this wasn't going to go well at _all._

_Day Two of Jack's Job Hunt_

"How was work?" He asked sweetly as Elizabeth plunked a bagful of food on the table. Expressing an interest in her day might prevent further hostilities down the road. A good commander always tried diplomacy first, after all. 

"The girls are Hermione and Mary... Hermione is my age. Mary has a little girl - her husband died not long ago. Today we worked on a coat for a nobleman... I'm not bad. My stitches are small and fine." She rapped his hand as he reached into the sack. "What did you do today?"

"I... am not a good shepard," he admitted.

_**Day Four of Jack's Job Hunt**_

At some point in the distant past, the occupation of scribe had been a position of both honor and dignity. 

"Are you stupid or simply daft? Your writing is atrocious! No one can read this! I want my money back!"

Apparently this was not the case in Dennot.

"No refunds, sorry sir, that's the way it--" Jack turned and sprinted away, dropping his quill and ink behind him.

_**Day Seven of Jack's Job Hunt**_

"Tomorrow! And tomorrow! And tomorrow! Creeps in this petty pace--" 

"Stop, ya blimey fool, you're overacting."

Jack looked at the script and raised an eyebrow. "Have you seen this writing, mate? It begs for overacting."

"Look here, Mr. Kendrick, I'm sure you're very pleasing to the eye but you must exercise... restraint."

The director's midget accomplice tugged on the leg of his trousers. "What about the Polonius role in the other one?"

"Ah.... actually, here. Take this. You need only read from halfway down."

Jack studied the script briefly before flinging his hand outward. "Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; for loan oft loses both itself and friend; and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." Spitting out the words was nearly painful as he sashayed back and forth across the stage. He stopped in his tracks and pointed directly at the director's face, much to the man's horror. "This above all: To _thine own self _be true!"

He never did receive a callback.

_**Day Eight of Jack's Job Hunt, Evening**_

"What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"On what?"

"I bought some paper."

Elizabeth slammed the door. Jack winced, trying not to imagine the cost of repairing the hinges if she kept up this new habit. "We're living off bread and water and you're writing?!"

"I'm writing a play," he informed her. "It will be a good play. Better than anything that hack Shakespeare can churn out."

"And what is this _good play_ about, Mr. Kendrick?" Elizabeth pulled her cloak off and dropped it on a chair.

"Well, there's several interlocking storylines. Our protagonist is Captain James Dory, a dashing and successful but somewhat absent-minded pirate--"

"I see where this is going."

"--and his accomplice, the dull-witted but well-meaning bla--er, sheep herder, Wilkes Tavington."

"Really." She did not sound terribly intrigued. "And how is it that a dull-witted sheep-herder happened to come across a dashing but absent-minded pirate captain?"

"The captain lost his ship, and the herder lost his sheep, of course," Jack said. "They are joined by Robert Marlin, well - he hires them - to help find his lost daughter, Estella."

He thought he caught the edge of a smile and pushed onward. "You see, Estella was a terribly adventurous girl and wandered a bit too far off the beach... wound up getting kidnapped by... I haven't quite figured that part out yet."

She didn't smile. "It'll never sell."

He sighed and fished around in his shirt, finally dumping a bagful of coins on the table. "If you must ask, I liberated it from a drunk snoozing in an ally, all right? Now, be a lovely lass and stop trying to turn me into a toad with your eyes."

And then something quite amazing happened.

Elizabeth smiled.

Jack, at long last, smiled back.

---

Props to Xena for the _many skills_ line. Nods to... let's see... _Finding Nemo_, and anything else I managed to rip off.

**My Darling Readers:**

Wow. It has been way too long. Real life has, unfortunately, gotten in the way once again. I haven't looked at this fic in nearly a year, and it stings. Witness me trying to get the character voices back.

I can't promise this story (or the trilogy) will ever be finished at the rate things are going. But I can promise that I will do my damndest to get it done.

Hey, it's progress, right?

I'm going to be rewriting the first three chapters. When I first set out on this quest, the plot (well, what there was of it) was highly different from what it turned out to be... actually, I was aiming for more of a parody tone back then. So, that will be worked on. It was actually Muffy's comment that reminded me of this, something I'd been ignoring for awhile. It sticks out most glaringly with the Commodore. One thing I DO want to clarify is that he didn't really want Lizzie's head to get blown off... she was simply underfoot during battle and he, being the jilted lover, was somewhat bitter. One of those "oh, life would be easier if you'd DROP DEAD" moments.

Look for the revised opener (it won't be terribly different, methinks) to crop up in the next month or so.

Meanwhile, I will _do my utmost_ to update at least once a week. I want to see this thing finished, probably even more than you guys.

Thank you for continuing to review and asking when it will be finished... it means a lot to me. You guys rock, I hope I don't let you down!

Next time, on **Silence**: The Captain and the Commodore come face-to-face - Captain Soledad, that is! Will's Worst Fear™ is confirmed, and Gerrarrd has a scheme (when doesn't he?)


	21. Don't Hang the Messenger

(This chapter will be a bit brief, I'm afraid. has been doing something... interesting... to my formatting as well, so I'm trying to figure a way around it.)

The New Year rang in nothing but illness to Port Royal, and as Corwin Norrington shuffled into one of the seediest taverns in the entire city, he wondered what enticing diseases he might obtain from its premises.

He had dressed down for the occasion: no wig, ragged clothes, and even a carefully-cultivated _don't-look-at-me _way of moving that he had observed from one of his less-confident sailors. Tucked into a pocket was the scribbled note from a certain J.G. of the _Black Pearl_; a note with instructions to meet a captain in a shadowy corner of the city.

_An interim captain, perhaps, _Macey had suggested when he learned of it.

Corwinhad a vague idea of what to expect when he met with the _Black Pearl_'s new captain, though he still couldn't quite believe the conditions under which they met. Not only did Captain Soledad insist upon meeting him on the other side of the city, but the _Dauntless _was to patrol _outside _the harbor, well away from the only inlet large enough for _Black Pearl _to squeeze into. He supposed it was not an unreasonable request, given the bounty on that vessel.

"Good afternoon, Commodore," the woman's voice purred. He smoothly changed tacks, sliding into a darkened booth and trying to peer into the recess of the cloak she wore. _Anamaria Soledad. _While not a personal acquaintance, he remembered enough of her to identify the voice. How many pounds had he placed on her head five years ago?

"Ye're looking quite fine today," Soledad continued. "Where's the wig?"

"Where's the face?"

"I have news." Soledad settled into business very quickly, something Corwin thanked the good heavens for. "Or perhaps it may not be news."

She pushed the hood of her cloak back ever so slightly, so that she could better stare at him from across the rim of a mug. Her dark eyes calm and composed - yet she still managed to strike him as nothing more than bad news on two legs. "Captain Soledad," he said, trying to forget that he was addressing a woman. "Your choice of location is splendid."

Her smile was not entirely cold. "We figured ye needed a good tour o'the better parts of the Caribee, Commodore. Thi' place is the sticks, but the booze isn't bad."

He accepted the mug she pressed into his hand and smiled stiffly as he sat. "I would prefer to be called Corwin, as a matter of fact. The fewer people know that I'm here, the better."

"Ah. Corwin." The smile came back briefly. "Lovely name. Very well, Corwin. Sit yourself down and listen to me, for I'll not be saying this more n'once. Tell me what ye know of th' _Wickedry _and her exploits."

"_Wickedry _is very fast," he said. "Almost... abnormally fast, if you will allow. Attacks on three port cities in the last two weeks, very far apart from each other..."

"Corwin, there be a question I must ask of ye, and I'd prefer if ye answered it truthfully."

He nodded. "You may."

Soledad reached into the recesses of her cloak and withdrew a scroll. She placed it on the table in front of him, and Corwin studied the familiar-looking seal with growing unease. "Tell me o'that, then."

He did not need to look at the contents to realize what it was. "That is an official posting from Governor Swann."

"Aye. And do you know what be inside?"

"A posting, or bit of official business, I imagine."

"Then read it."

He unrolled it, settling into Weatherby Swann's elegant writing. As he went through the lines of text, his heart began to sink. "This cannot be..."

"It is."

"I told him--" _Had _he told him anything, though? Or had he merely assumed that Governor Swann would sit back and take a passive role in the search for his daughter? "Oh, by the God's good graces..."

"Your Guv'nuh's been paying a ransom, Commodore. Or did you not know that?"

_This cannot be, this cannot be... _he pictured Weatherby at his desk, dutifully filling bank notes and ordering them delivered to the man who vowed to find his daughter. "Governor Swann is an intelligent man, Captain Soledad... I can't imagine..."

"He be a father, do he not. He do what it takes to get hisgirl back."

_While his commanding officer appears to do nothing. God damn it, Weatherby, I am against a wall and you know it! _He set the missive aside, clenching his hands into fists. "He truly thought I would do nothing about it?"

"That question be for your man, Corwin, not me. I just came to ye with the news." She touched the edge of the paper with a roughened finger. "The name there is an alias of one of Gerrarrd's finest men, Gibbs tells me."

Why did he suddenly feel dizzy? "Perhaps Gibbs is mistaken."

She regarded him. "Do you really think that t'be true?"

He sipped at his ale and found it to be disturbingly good. "The other is not something I have wished to contemplate as of late. You understand."

"Then you're a fool."

Corwin said nothing to the contrary, only swallowed another gulp of the ale while Anamaria Soledad threw down her hand. "The good Captain Gerrarrd has put out word to every captain sailing the Caribee, Commodore. If he gets his way, he'll have a fleet partially-funded by the well-intentioned Weatherby Swann o'Port Royal." She smiled at him across the table. "'Tis a tempting offer."

Corwin pushed his drink aside and leaned forward. "So why not join him?"

"You're not as dumb as you look," she said approvingly. "I don't join him because _Black Pearl _is not mine to devote, much as I wish it to be so. She waits for Captain Sparrow and his word, and should I try to take her a place she dislikes - it won't be so."

"It's a ship," he said.

"Nay, Mr. Corwin. She is not just a ship."

"Sparrow may be dead, you realize."

"We thought of that. But if someone's nigh come forward - that means he's gone and gotten himself killed in some damn-fool quest, aye? Jack's a slobberin' fool at times but he's not so stupid when his life be concerned. That be why we do not acknowledge him dead, Mr. Corwin. Until we find his bones and put them to sea, he isn't."

_I wish I inspired that kind of loyalty. _Sparrow was a pirate, damnall. A pirate!

Maybe that loyalty could work for them all.

"Weatherby will cease paying the ransoms, but I fear the damage has already been done, as you say. You say you will not join his fleet. Do you stand with us, then?"

"_Black Pearl _stands for herself, as Captain Sparrow so stated before he left," she said.

"Anamaria--" He caught himself. "--Captain Soledad--you must surely know that the _Dauntless _and _Relentless _are not enough to stave off an entire fleet, should things come to pass. If you received a letter of marque--"

"And tip him off to my doings? Don't press me to be a fool, Mr. Corwin. What works in the world of your fleet is not the way of the pirates, such as it be so. Don't bother pulling your money with me. I've said me part."

Corwin's shoulders slumped. "Then why bother pulling me here and telling me all this? Not that I'm not thankful for this bad news."

Soledad folded her hands and some of the venom left her voice. "I tell ye this because once you let a good man go free, 'spite of yer dislike for him. I tell ye this because likely Jack would wish it to be so. And I tell ye this because what better way to let the two o'ya, Gerrarrd and Commodore, destroy each other while the rest o'us wait for the riches?"

For some reason, he smiled. "Once a pirate, always a pirate."

He extended his hand. Soledad considered it, then clasped it. "I hope your luck runs better than mine has, Captain."

"So do I, for your sake." She pulled the hood back up over her head, though he caught a wink. "I daresay _Black Pearl _is the only thing standing b'twixt yourself and the mighty fleet of Ephraim Gerrarrd."

---

Noble Bay

Will twisted a rag around the latest of his wounds and hoped he wouldn't die of gangrene before he reached his mid-twenties. Keeping in Gerrarrd's employ - and therefore his good graces - had him attempting tasks he had never even conceived of. _I'm no sailor_, he thought as he examined his tired and battered hands. The labors of a blacksmith might well be considered rigorous and painful on land, but at sea... oh, the workings of a ship were an entirely new kind of pain.

He had settled into a kind of existence now, one that offered at least the small comfort of day-to-day continuity. Captain Ephraim Gerrarrd could rest comfortably in the knowledge that his young prisoner could not escape; even if he _did _manage to commandeer a tiny boat and row away by cover of darkness, his navigational skills were poor at best. And as Bootstrap Bill returned to his senses, the possibility of leaving him behind dimmed.

No, Will Turner had no way off the island. Thus Gerrarrd let him roam about as he pleased, often delegating small tasks to keep him busy. Today he sat in the captain's dining room, polishing a pair of unloaded pistols. He held one up to the sunlight streaming through the aft windows, admitting to himself that the fiend did have excellent taste. Both pistols had mother-of-pearl inlay on the handle, and gold etching on the barrel.

He carefully cleaned them, mindful of the bruises on his hands. "He likes them fancy, doesn't he?" He asked Bootstrap, who lingered in a corner. "Has he always had such expensive taste?"

Bootstrap stared at him and gnawed on his knuckles. Will sighed and put the guns down, going to his father and removing the offending hand from his mouth. "Now, you don't want to do that. Remember what happened last time?"

Bootstrap gave him a bloody smile. "Infec-infec-infec-infec-_infec_--"

"Infection."

"Infection! Turned green."

"And oozed for three weeks. Keep your hands where you can see them. Like this."

Bootstrap held his hands in his lap for about five seconds, but as soon as Will turned his back, the sucking noises began again. Fortunately, Ephraim Gerrarrd sauntered into the cabin at that precise moment. "Turner, get your bloody hand out of your mouth and make yourself presentable. We've got guests."

"Guests?" Will gestured to the pistols on the table before retreating a safe distance from him. "Official visitors? A chat with the local dignitaries, perhaps... or is this more along the lines of a familial discussion?"

"I'm entertaining," Gerrarrd said, holstering the pistols.

He said it so nonchalantly that Will blinked. _Why, he might as well be having a kindly old lady over for tea. _"I didn't know pirates... entertained."

"Special company. Take these." A pistol was shoved into his hand, along with a cutlass. "You'll need them."

Will held onto the weapons for a moment before following the captain to the door. "What kind of _entertaining _are you planning on doing, sir?"

Gerrarrd sent him an odd look. "You don't understand, do you lad?"

Will shook his head.

"Here."

He flung open the door and stepped out on deck. Will made to follow, only to stop in mid-stride.

Close to two dozen ships lay at anchor in the clear bay, none of them flying an ensign.

Will swallowed. "Now that's entertainment."

Gerrarrd looked upon them with the satisfaction of a mother hen, hands resting on his hips as he nodded approvingly. "Take a good long look at them, Turner. Sloops, brigs, even an ex-warship or two... all of them here to listen to what I have to say." He nodded at the specks in the water: boats, making their way over to _Wickedry. _"Twenty-two have answered the call."

Will's jaw dropped. "You're inviting the captains of _twenty-two _pirate vessels onto your ship? Do you have a death wish?"

"They're not all pirates, Mr. Turner. There's more than a few disgruntled traders in their midst, and those of them that are will keep to the Code or face the consequences. Reputation is everything, as your friend Sparrow knew." He guided Will to where Bootstrap stood uncertainly near a lifeboat, pointed at another ship that lay beyond _Wickedry_. "You see her?"

Will nodded.

"No, mate, you _see _her?"

_Three masts... two gun decks... wide belly... actually... _"She's the same design as your ship," he said.

"Aye. And do you know what she's been doing, with my man Erroll?"

Will was fairly certain that not only did he _not _want to know, he was also about to find out whether he wanted to or not.

"Seems there's tell of a ghost ship running around," Gerrarrd said respectfully. "Looks a lot like _Wickedry_, matter-of-fact. We strike here, and another one... strikes there. Far away. Seems no one can really explain it. Can you, lad?"

"I can try," he muttered as Gerrarrd sauntered off. He looked at Bootstrap, who was gazing at the ocean with that far-away look he had been cultivating recently. "What say you to this, Bootstrap Bill?"

Bootstrap wavered slightly. "Captain..."

"Yes, that was the captain."

"Smart man."

"He does seem to plan."

Bootstrap snorted. "Schemes is more like it."

The rare glimpse of lucidity from his father was enough to make Will turn his head. "Papa," he said, "just how far _do _you and Gerrarrd go back?"

Bootstrap Bill only smiled.

(_Next time, on **Silence**: Elizabeth and Jack make the most of their situation... Liz finds help from a most surprising source.)_

_(Right on schedule for once! So glad to see you guys again. I'm kind of amazed people are still reading this... but thank you for your reviews!)_

_(PS: Is it horribly wrong that I have an idea for a Pirates/Phantom of the Opera movie crossover? Is it?) _


	22. All About Elizabeth

_The plot thickens... and... a wee bit of what I think some of you have been hungering for... putting this up now, as I am sick and don't know when I'll get a chance to update (midterms, papers, yeuck) again for the next couple of weeks._

_PS: has decided to eat all of my question marks/exclamation points for tonight. I'll fix it as I can, but I don't know what's wrong with this site. _

Dennot, England

**1688**

The needle pricked her finger once again, and this time she could not stop the small line of crimson from soaking the pristine white cloth. "Blooming, bullocked, manky piss-artist!"

Jack stared. "Where the devil did you learn that?"

"Mr. Gibbs said it on the crossing over," she said around the finger in her mouth. "He told me all kinds of useful things."

"Do you even know what you just _said?_"

She lapped uncomfortably at the blood. "Something foul, I imagine."

"I'll have to have a word with him when we return." Jack offered her a handkerchief, which she steadily ignored. "There's no sense in corrupting innocent young ladies."

"His version of corruption is quite harmless when compared to yours, Mr. Kendrick."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kendrick, for that insight." He took the finger out of her mouth and examined it. "You'll live."

"So kind of you to share that with me." Elizabeth put her sewing down and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked to be in a good mood, having recently acted out the third scene of his play for her. "Hermione's husband says that his lordship has need of a messenger."

"Oh?" Jack blinked at her innocently in feigned interest.

"I told her you might be interested."

"You told her _what?_"

"You need something to do, Jack. I won't have you sitting here writing while I toil at work - and robbing old ladies isn't counting, either."

"I helped her cross the street!"

"You picked her pocket, Jack."

"She didn't _have_ a pocket."

"Purse, then. I saw you do it, Jack."

"I _cannot _be torn from my writing."

"James Dory isn't buying _food_, Jack."

He sighed and took the cloth from her, bringing it over to the basin of water kept standing in the corner. He carefully dribbled a bit of the liquid onto it, reaching for a rag to scrub with. "It is not so much to ask of me, is it? Be the happy landlubber for just a _little _longer, until the whole bloody mess blows over..."

Elizabeth waited for him to return to her, holding out the now-pristine cloth. "How did you do that?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, smiling vaguely. "I am wise in the ways of... laundry." He looked at her injured finger once more, examining the torn flesh, running his fingers against the skin surrounding it. "You've always had such clean hands, Elizabeth. How do you manage it?"

His nearness abruptly made her shy, then bold. "Be careful, Mr. Kendrick. You're starting to resemble a pirate." She lifted a chunk of his hair up, once again marveling over the transformation. She could close her eyes and see Captain Sparrow... and when she opened them, there would be Jack. _Just Jack_, she reminded herself. _He has no wings here in Dennot. None of us do. _"Will your hair lighten in the summer, how that it's not..." She paused, trying to be tactful. "...creative?"

Jack chuckled. "When I was younger and scrabbling about in the rigging it would sometimes start to stripe out. I do hope we'll be gone before that, though."

"Back to the Caribbean," she said. She curled the strand of hair around her finger, then released it. The thought of returning home hadn't honestly struck her yet. "Back home... to normality."

"To your father and your Will," Jack said, and if his smile seemed a little strained, surely she imagined it.

"And then you're off to your _Pearl _again," she said. "As good as gone."

It _looked _as though he started to say _Well, I... _but he seemed to think better of it, instead patting her hand. "You'll have plenty of stories to tell your little... Turner offspring."

The smart thing to do would have been to back away, to go back to her life as she knew it and hope some kind of peace would come to her eventually. The smart thing to do... the smart thing, or the right thing? "Jack, I don't know if I-"

"Of course you do," he said, breaking the contact and smoothly evading her touch. "Come now, what else is there for you? Working as a seamstress all your life? That's not for you, any more than being some rich man's messenger is for me."

"I wanted to be a pirate once," she blurted.

"I know. You told me."

"If I asked you-"

"For a space on _Black Pearl_? I don't know that I'd turn you down, Miss Swann, but I don't know that you want to put yourself in that... position just yet."

Elizabeth adverted her eyes, quite at a loss as to where the entire moment had come from. Jack turned away, busying himself with collecting the pages of his script. "I will speak to Hermione's husband, if you promise to be quiet for a few days."

She ignored the insult and picked up her sewing again. "I will, if you shall permit me to write a letter to the Commodore, letting him know I am alive."

"I suppose the time is right for that." Jack flashed her one of his brightest smiles. "Can't let poor Corwin fear for you _too _long, now can we?"

Elizabeth smiled right back at him. "Indeed."

Yes, she'd write a letter to Corwin, but it would not be the first time. If the ship carrying her friendly overture made good time across the Atlantic, then Corwin Norrington would be opening up a missive from a Mrs. Aminita Piangi in just a matter of days.

**Port Royal**

Lieutenant Macey interrupted one of his sessions with Pintel and Ragetti to deliver the note."A Mrs. Piangi who claims to be a relation of yours" he said, offering it to him. "The captain said it was of utmost urgency. Straight from England, sir."

"England?" Corwin took the envelope as Ragetti tittered.

"Gots a sweet'eart, do ya Commodore?"

"My heart is only for you, Ragetti," he mumbled, not noticing the blush that colored the man's cheeks. The dainty script of the letter was quite familiar...

_Dearest Corwin, _

It has been some time since last we spoke. Surely you remember your almost-wife, though it was many years ago?

_I am well, as is my dear, mad cousin. We are safe, for the time being. I send this to you, rather than your dear friend Weatherby, for he has always been one to jump to action. He will want to bring us to live with him, but I still have relations here - perhaps when dear grandmother passes on. _

I do hope that no ill has befallen you or yours.

Cordially yours,

Aminita

"Must be a good'un," Pintel said.

Corwin looked up and smiled, tucking the letter and envelope into his jacket. "Just a note from my cousin. My aunt is dying."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Macey said.

"We all pass on sometime," Ragetti said.

"To the big pirate ship in the clouds."

"Consumption" Corwin said briskly, standing up. "Terrible thing, isn't it? Poor old bat's coughing up her lungs."

"D'ya suppose you'll inherit anything?" Pintel asked.

"Only a host of trouble, Pintel. Only a host of trouble."

He left Macey to finish the line of questioning, making his way back to the surface with his grin still firmly in place. _Elizabeth, my dear, sometimes you do astound me._

-

Dennot

Jack left that night to run an errand, for reasons beyond her comprehension, Elizabeth followed him.

She followed him through the little town of Dennot, all the way down to the docks. He ran his errands at night, typically after she went to bed - or at least, when he _thought _she went to bed. She wondered if he had a lover here: a harbor whore, perhaps? The thought rankled her until she actually realized she _was _rankled, and almost stopped in her tracks. _Why is that bothering me? The man can do as he wishes. Just because we... on an island... well... _

Certainly it meant nothing. Just an act. A teacher and a pupil, yes. Elizabeth picked up the pace again. _Best to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps there's some attraction to him, particularly now that he's... clean. _Yes, Jack Sparrow certainly _looked _more appealing than ever before. Living in such close quarters with him probably heightened some subconscious urge to mark him as her own.

All the better to get back to the Caribbean and away from such thoughts.

_Will, what about Will?_

She had scarcely hurried past a docked vessel when a hand jumped out, snatching her arm. "Now, Mrs. Kendrick, what the devil would possess you to go traipsing about these docks when someone could quite easily spirit you away? I hear pirates prey on these parts."

Elizabeth shook off her initial terror and lifted her chin into the air, meeting Jack's gaze squarely. "The only pirate around here, Mr. Kendrick, is yourself."

"How true that is." He linked arms with her and pulled her away from the boxes. "If you've a mind to be wandering the docks at night, at least do so with plenty of protection. One never knows what turns up at the waterfront."

They stopped at an empty slip, and Elizabeth watched the play of moonlight over the softly-moving sea as music spilled out of one of the docked ships. "This is where you come every night."

"I'm only surprised it took you this long to follow me."

"I wanted to give you your privacy."

"That's very gracious of you, Miss Elizabeth."

She held onto his arm. "You come here and watch the ocean?"

"The little ship that holds this slot left the day we arrived," he said distantly. "I saw her go while we walked past. She's not yet returned."

"Will she?"

"A small ship like that, on a very big ocean..." Jack disengaged his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders when she shivered. "...perhaps she found another port."

"A better port."

"Somewhere better for her, where rum runs freely and the riches of the world are at her feet."

"Somewhere warm."

He covered one of her cold hands with his, squeezing gently. "Somewhere bright."

"You want to go home, don't you?"

"And if I did? The opportune moment's not upon us yet, darling, and we both know it." Jack stretched his free hand out to the water, as though beckoning it in. "But it will come, and when it does..." The sound of bagpipes stirred his attention, and he focused instead on the docked merchantman from which the music sounded. "Let's go."

"Go in the _ocean_?"

"No - aboard!" He was dragging her up the gangway before she could so much as blink, greeting the sailors like they were old chums and lapsing into commentary about their music and their ship. She watched him work with an odd lump in her throat; this, at least, had not changed: Jack Sparrow could still charm the trousers off a commodore if he so chose to. He might as well have had his tongue plated in silver to match his gold teeth.

The music moved through her veins, and soon any thoughts of Will blurred into nothingness.

And they danced.

-

Morning, when they spilled off the ship and staggered up the cobblestones to the Cade residence. Morning, when they laughed and sang the pirate song in hushed tones. Morning, when she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed him. "I had a wonderful time, Jack. Thank you."

"Thank _you_, Elizabeth. I knew you had it in you." They swayed about the main room, giggling as Jack knocked into things. "So a pirate's life for you now? When we return to the _Pearl _you'll be aboard?"

"Oh, of _course_ - and I want to pillage Port Royal. Can we pillage, please? Let's pillage." She batted her eyes at him.

"Let it never be said we will not pillage. And when _that's _done... we can sail the world over like the free men we are. Well," he hastened, "free woman, as well. Free people. Individuals of a free nature..."

A crack of daylight seeped in through the curtains, and Elizabeth felt her jovial mood fading. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Oh bloody hell, we had such a wonderful night. Must you now be sad?"

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for taking that away from you." She pressed her hand to his cheek, did her best to smile. "I won't speak of it again, Jack, but - now I understand. Now I _know_... that freedom... and... you're here, now, away from it. And it is... partially... my fault."

Jack picked up her hands and squeezed them lightly. "Tell you something, Elizabeth Kendrick. There's not a man or woman in this world who could make me do something I've not a mind to do myself - and that includes you. I miss _Pearl _and her waters, but I know what it is I have to do. You, young miss, have nothing to dow with it. In fact..." He paused, touching her chin with his fingers. "I'm... glad... I had company this time."

**-**

**Next Time, on _Silence: _**Will finds a worthy project, and something unexpected happens between the roommates...

**Author Request:** Anyone feel like beta-ing a potential _Pirates/Phantom _crossover? I'm not sure where I'm going with it but if anyone's interested give me a holler.


	23. Misgivings

Will held up his father's old sword and gazed at it dubiously. "I don't know if I can repair this."

He had come across the rusted blade in the _Wickedry_'s armory, choosing to loiter there while Gerrarrd continued his lengthy meetings with the dissatisfied captains of the Caribbean. He didn't know why he recognized it in the dim light; he simply gravitated to a long, curved object not dissimilar to a sailor's cutlass - but slightly different, thicker through the blade itself. He turned it over carefully in his hands, tracing along the pommel and at last peering at it. Beneath scores of rust and wear and grime: _BT_, carved into the edge.

Bill Turner. The man had spent some money getting the sword properly engraved.

The captain had sought him out after the latest round, and found him sitting there holding the thing in his lap. _Why not fix it_, he'd suggested.

"I was told you are a blacksmith of some repute," Gerrarrd said.

"I can knock things together," Will said cautiously, mindful of the captain's steely gaze. "I can repair things, true. But this - I think this is beyond my skills, Captain Gerrarrd. It may even be beyond Prometheus himself..."

"How so?"

Fine; if the captain wished to question him, Will could certainly formulate answers. "This sword was with my father for his duration on the bottom, yes? The rust on this is astounding - although it seems on this edge, someone tried to clean it off-"

"With his teeth."

Will cringed. "-if it goes straight through, and there's no reason why it should not, the blade is likely not salvageable. Even if it doesn't, it's been so terribly abused over the years, abused and neglected and left to rot-"

"While others went on to greater glory?" Gerrarrd lifted a hand and drew a saber from its place along the wall. "This blade, for instance. Is it any better than your father's?"

He took the sword in his left hand, testing it. "It's a fine piece of work. But father's is better-balanced, and will leave a more... lasting injury, if properly-wielded. If you will permit me to say so, Captain."

"So your father's blade is a victim of circumstance."

"Yes," Will said, somewhat puzzled.

"Not unlike yourself."

"Captain?"

"You were confined to land when you should have sprung about in the rigging as a boy," Gerrarrd said, taking the sword and placing it back in its proper position. Will wondered fleetingly if it were truly wise to keep so many sharp objects in one room aboard a ship full of cutthroats, but did not have time to further ponder it as the captain continued. "And then took second row to the Commodore while trying to win your Elizabeth's heart - and then Jack Sparrow-"

"If you seek to turn me against my friends, you choose the wrong method," Will snapped. His fist tightened reflexively around his father's sword, then quickly released as the rust bit into his palms. "Jack Sparrow saved me, saved all of us-"

"And where is he now, William? Where is your friend now? Where is Elizabeth?"

The genuine question in the captain's voice made him look up. "I thought Errol was to bring her in, hold her for ransom-"

"That was the plan, yes," Gerrarrd said. "Oh, don't give me those wounded eyes; you knew all along I intended to make a pretty coin off her father. You're not as stupid as you pretend to be, nor as complacent. But Errol has not been able to find her... and, according to the scuttlebutt 'round the Caribbean, neither has our dashing companion Norrington."

The news struck Will hard in the gut, and it took all his strength to maintain his composure. _How? Why? ...he could be lying to you now, William! Trying to draw you out! _But Gerrarrd's explanation seemed almost too simple to be a lie; why openly admit to such a gaping hole in his plot to rule the seas? "How... how can this be? How can you not _find _her? You left her on the island with him!"

"And we have searched that island. Every nook and cranny... everything. Every cave, every lagoon, every tree and every crevice. Errol found the remains of a campsite, but nothing more."

_Elizabeth is missing. Elizabeth. You are the reason I am... but... how can this be? _

"I can only surmise that something happened to both of them." Gerrarrd paused, taking a few steps across the room to gaze out the porthole. He clasped his hands behind his back. "That, or Sparrow has spirited her away to an unknown locale."

"Jack wouldn't do that."

"Why?"

The question hung in the air. Gerrarrd looked at him for only a brief moment before turning back to the porthole, permitting Will's thoughts to cave in on themselves. "Jack wouldn't _do _that," he said desperately, trying to hold onto what remained of pleasant memories. "He just... he's a good man."

The captain turned away from his window, placed a hand on Will's shoulder, and guided him from the armory. Will allowed himself to be nudged in the direction of the main deck, now clear of crew members and would-be associates. "You knew Jack Sparrow for all of a few days, lad. He helped you, true enough, but held his own motives in doing so."

_Jack wanted his ship back... Jack got his ship back... but he still came back for us... to get his ship back. _Will swallowed hard. "I... I don't think he would..."

"Even a good man can be swayed by the wiles of a woman. Your Elizabeth is a very appealing young lady."

_He's just trying to sway you! _Will smiled darkly at the captain, but could not chase away the seed of doubt that now grew and took root in his belly. It _had _been too long. Maybe Gerrarrd _did _pull all of this from out of some dark orifice of his body, but it did not explain the sudden passion Elizabeth had displayed with him on the island... nor the disturbing dreams...

Nor, worst of all, that horrid moment of unease when he had asked her directly of her relations with the good Jack Sparrow.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"We must all consider our varied truths at times, Mister Turner." Gerrarrd glanced at the sword still clutched in his hand. "Why not see what you can do with your father's old blade? It might do you a world of good."

_Something to concentrate on... something to distract me... something to take my mind off your plotting and your wicked thoughts of my Elizabeth... my... _"Captain, if I may speak frankly?"

"Of course."

"Why is it that you speak with such a heavy dialect among some, but slip out of it among others?"

Gerrarrd flashed a smile. "It's all in the marketing, lad. Or didn't Jack tell you that?"

Dennot

Elizabeth opened her eyes to gray light filtering in through the window, and realized she had overslept.

She leaped out of bed and crossed the bedroom in two steps, yanking the door open. Hermione had entrusted to her the jacket of a man of considerable power; Elizabeth had done half of the work by candlelight, only retiring when she realized her tiring stitches would do more harm than good. She'd meant to awaken early and finish it before handing it off to its proper master...

_I will be sacked_! She clawed at the door and grabbed for her sewing kit, only to realize it was not there.

_What is this?_ Had she left it somewhere else? She scanned the outer room, only to find the jacket there, in completed splendor. It lay folded over a chair, her sewing kit on the table in front of it. Beside the sewing kit, though...

The front door opened and shut, and Elizabeth turned to stare at him as he strolled over. She ought to thank him, at the very least; or perhaps question him... but all that came out of her mouth was, "You cook?"

"I am a man of underappreciated and unfathomed talents, darling Elizabeth. And you were so tired last night, well-" He shrugged. "-that overlord I work for found my speed endearing and rewarded me quite nicely."

"I didn't know you could sew, either," she said.

"Good gracious, girl, any sailor worth his salt knows how to patch a sail or repair his dress uniform. Not all of us can afford to go to lovely ladies like yourself."

"I-but-"

"The master seems to require a courier be sent out immediately following his birthday celebration in a matter of days," Jack said, focusing intently on her. "Out to County Kent, with full pardons from the soldiers on the road - you wouldn't have, ahem, _known _about this, would you?"

Elizabeth was too busy salivating over the breakfast spread to pay much attention to him. "Yes... Hermione did mention messengers had... traveling privileges..."

Suddenly a gentleman, Jack pulled out a chair for her. "I do believe you've earned yourself a reprieve, Lizzie-dear. And a promotion."

"To what?"

"Plotter. Er, schemer. Or something of that nature." He sat opposite her. "I shall need to find transportation..."

Elizabeth paused before lifting a cup of steaming tea to her lips. "Leave that to me, Mr. Kendrick - leave that to me."

He stared at her. "I find I don't like the way you say that."

"But as I've just been promoted, you're going to let it pass and see what surprises I procure."

"It seems that way." He began cutting a loaf of bread. "If all goes well, we'll not be in the little town of Dennot very much longer."

"I take it we're to hunt down this... object you keep going on about."

"We're going back to the Caribbean, darling! One dreadfully painful step at a time."

Elizabeth sighed. "So you keep saying, Jack. So you keep saying."

Rose -

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry when I received your review. I'm glad you came back, but... I know well enough the tortures of fanfics that aren't updated. Few things in life are worse. I am terribly sorry that I did not deliver the crack as promised... but I hope I can make it up to you, in time.

Oh, and about Jack not having a plan... well... dammit, I hate trilogies! ;)

**General Note - **

Probably next weekend I'm going to put up the edited versions of the first three chapters. Basically trying to put Corwin back in-character (have received some complaints) and make a few adjustments... as I've said before, it started out as more of a humorous take but has gotten a bit darker, so...

I'm indulging in a bit of fluff as you can see, but chapters 25 on are gonna be hardcore, yo.

**Also - **

After careful consideration, I've decided to drop the rating to PG-13 for the time being. I don't see anything that wouldn't have passed in the movie (well, ratings-wise) - so it will be appearing on the PG-13 page for now.

_**Next time, on Silence: **Jack realizes that Liz's idea of transportation is rather scary; Will stumbles across some interesting information, and Liz realizes that things might just be as bad as she fears. _


	24. Will's Latest Problem

_I posted this yesterday, but as I replaced the author's note with it, it didn't show up as an actual update. So let's try this again… _

Oh, good grief, it's back. This is just a short chapter to get the ball rolling again… and yes, things _are _set in motion here… wait for the next one…

First off, a collective HEY! to my continuing reviewers! I know I'm way behind when it comes to looking at stories, too, so expect me to pop by your tales verrrrrrry soon, maties. **ErinRua **and **Erinya **- so good to see you gals again! Captain Tish and Meggie Dodge - welcome aboard! Pop some rum, me hearties, the ship is setting sail once more...

Addressing one of the specific comments –

**ErinRua – **I wasn't thinking a drastic rewrite by any means. I've been meaning to edit a couple of the Commodore's lines, for instance, that didn't come across quite the way I wanted. Just tinkering. You know, kind of like George Lucas with the OT. I don't know if I could stomach a major rewrite of the thing, it might just drive me bonkers.

And now, about a year after my last update, I bring you... _Silence_

------

_**What if 1688 came, and nobody noticed?**_

****

_Wickedry _welcomed the new year with her first hunt.

Of course, it was hardly the new year anymore; that had come and gone with vicious storms. But Gerrarrd proclaimed it _his _year, the very beginning – and so what if it did not quite match up with official calendars?

She put out of Noble Bay on the first, and her sails caught a strong wind almost immediately. She prowled the Caribbean with the hunger and appearance of an exotic predator, a being of dark wood and darker intentions. Displayed proudly in her captain's quarters was a parchment inked with the marks of over two dozen captains.

A truce. A promise. A navy.

And a vow that nothing in the Caribbean was safe…

Will Turner could not quite decide why Gerrarrd insisted _he _come along; he was happiest in the smith's shop, repairing old weapons as necessary. But the captain gave his orders, and with the strength of some thirty vessels at his back, no one dared defy him. So Will went about his business on deck, and the crew pretended he didn't get in the way. He supposed it worked out for everyone.

It took only a few days for _Wickedry_ to come across an innocent-looking sloop that Iagan identified as the _Helene._ It only took Gerrarrd only a moment after that to issue the order to attack. Seconds later, _Wickedry_'s deck was awash with action as crew members raced to make ready for a battle.

_Helene _surrendered immediately, running up a white flag and mustering her crew at the guns. Gerrarrd took one look at the captive vessel and swore, clearly put-out by the lack of a fight. He took Will's arm and pulled him toward one of the boats, his teeth grinding audibly.

Will went along without protest. Six burly sailors rowed them across, and soon enough they were aboard the _Helene, _inspecting a crew of a dozen men and one trembling captain.

Gerrarrd strolled easily about the deck, his drumming a tattoo on his pistol. "May I inquire as to why you ran up the flag?"

The captain, wearing a rich-looking plum doublet, cleared his throat. "We didn't wish to die, Captain Gerrarrd."

Gerrarrd all but grinned. "You've heard of me?" He used the cultured English tone that he generally used for Will and a select few members of his crew. "How delightful! When?"

"Why, there's talk of your doings all over the Caribbean – we'd have to be _deaf _not to hear some tell…" The captain looked over at _Wickedry_ riding quietly beside them. "Your ship is faster than the gods themselves, it seems."

Will looked at the members of the man's crew and saw nothing but fear written plainly on their faces. _Wickedry _had not left port in months, yet they all knew Gerrarrd and his feared boat.

_By God, he's done it. He's really done it. He's… and all under my nose…_

No, that wasn't entirely true. Gerrarrd bragged about his plots often enough, now that Will thought of it. But it came in such abstract fashion that it only made sense after the fact.

He shuddered.

Gerrarrd didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Instead, he moved to the center of the deck and clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm going to offer you mercy, under one condition."

Will raised an eyebrow. Some of the men leaned forward.

"You will sail under my command," the pirate captain continued, "on this ship or another – you will be a member of something different. Something great. Something _powerful_… you will be numbered among great men. You will be remembered. And the spoils of your loyalty to me…" He looked disdainfully about the little _Helene_, "…will be far beyond what life as a cargo ship will make for you."

_Well, he's certainly got his speech delivery down. I wonder what they'll do?_

The _Helene_'s captain cleared his throat. "Sir – you've slaughtered others you've come across – why--?"

Gerrarrd laughed. "Why, I recognize quality when I see it, sir! I've had my eye on your little ship for quite some time now. Think on it, lads," he said, turning to the sailors with a gleam in his eye. "You'll get away with your lives and even have a bit of adventure."

Will watched with fascination as one by one, the sailors nodded. _How did he…_

The captain gaped at his crew, and then looked at Gerrarrd. "There you have it, I suppose. The ship is yours."

"I suppose it is," Gerrarrd said. He smiled. "A well-made decision, men, well-made indeed. I reward loyalty."

He pulled his pistol from out of his belt and examined it underneath the weak January daylight. And then he turned around and shot the captain in the head.

The man's body hit the deck, the beginnings of a surprised expression still on his face.

Will gasped, but Gerrarrd had already tucked the gun away. "I reward loyalty," he said, his voice going cold, "but I _despise _cowardice. Your old man didn't even make a fight of it, and if nothing else you _will _fight. Is that clear?"

The sailors nodded, their eyes wide.

Gerrarrd turned to Will and spoke quietly. "You and Dugald will take the ship back to Noble Bay."

"We'll _what_?" Will squeaked, before gaining a grip on his surprise. "Captain, I don't think…"

Gerrarrd adjusted his sleeves. "I can't take her under tow and she'll need repainting. These men are already cowed by my reputation; you need only to show them a kind word. Dugald will make sure they follow orders."

Will glanced at Dugald, and then back at Gerrarrd. "But – but what if they—"

"Revolt? Mutiny? You'd best ensure they don't, Mr. Turner, for your sire's fate depends on it."

Will stared at him. "Sir?"

"If I do not hear word that you've returned to Noble Bay within two weeks, then I'll have no use for Bootstrap Bill, will I? And believe me, dear William – I have my parrots, don't I?" A dark smile flitted across handsome features, and Will could only stare as Gerrarrd bowed deeply to the gathered sailors. "You will sail under the command of good Will Turner for the time being, gentlemen, and once you make port you'll receive your just rewards. Other than that, little on this ship will change. Good day to you."

Will stood there slack-jawed as Gerrarrd and his entourage departed, leaving a dozen sailors and Dugald to look at him expectantly. _Whatthe-he really just did that, didn't he? _

He toyed with the idea of ordering the ship into Tortuga or even Port Royal – _now's your chance, Will! Run for it! _But Bootstrap was still in Noble Bay…

And Gerrarrd did have his parrots. Talking birds in the form of swift vessels, over thirty strong, coming and going from Noble Bay every day.

Will Turner felt he'd grown thicker-skinned over the past few months, but as he looked at the crew – _his _crew – he knew that Gerrarrd had played his bet wisely. Will could not leave Bootstrap in his clutches. Would not. It was all so beautifully-planned.

_So this is how he secures my loyalty. _

Will sighed. "Damn it. Put about for Noble Bay. Damn, damn, damn."

---------------------------------

**Dennot**

Lord Owlsley placed the sealed note carefully into Elizabeth's hands, and graced her with a smile. "You'll take that to your courier-husband, then?"

She nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "He will treat it with the greatest of care, my lord. He will be quick about it as well." _And if he's not, I'll just kill him._

Owlsley nodded, looking out the door at the grim streets of Dennot. "He'll need to make haste if he wants to beat the coming storm – I fear things will get much worse before they improve."

Elizabeth suspected he was not just talking about the weather. Dennot had become increasingly rough in the months following her arrival, and she went about town with no small dose of caution.

Lord Owlsley took his leave, and Elizabeth reached for her cloak. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised Hermione, who stood next to her with a concerned expression. "But my mother has taken ill in Kent, and I must see to her if I can."

"I don't think you should go out there, Lizzie," Hermione said. "It's so dangerous…"

"I'll be fine," she said, drawing the hood of the cloak up. "Jack will keep me safe." Even as she said the words, she wondered of their truth – would he? _Could _he, if Owlsley's worst fears were accurate? What sort of troubles _did _await them, if any? "I'll be back before you can finish your cross-stitch."

Hermione shook her head, and hugged her. "Be careful."

The hug surprised her, but Elizabeth returned it as warmly as she could before stepping out into the street. She'd never had a young woman of her age to converse with; being the governor's daughter tended to discourage the other girls of Port Royal from attempting to befriend her. There was no such social stigma with Hermione, though.

She kept the folded envelope close to her, tucked underneath the slim gold necklace that she no longer wore for fear of robbery. _I can finally make use of it again_, she thought, as she headed for the horse trader's.

------------------

**_A few hours later… _**

Elizabeth shut the door loudly, startling Jack at the table. She folded the cloak over her arms and looked pointedly at the quill in his hand, which he hastily set aside. "You're going to tell me what's waiting for us in County Kent, Jack, and you're going to tell me why we're in England."

Jack eyed her in the manner he tended to adopt when he knew she wasn't in a good mood. "Why?"

"Because I've got your letter of marque for County Kent," she said, holding the sheet up and displaying Owlsley's seal. She very carefully kept any trace of a smug grin off her face.

He pushed back from the table, his expression one of practiced disinterest. "Do you?"

"You can even leave at once if you wish, and without soldiers harassing you. But Jack – and I mean this kindly – I _want to know_."

Jack Kendrick stood up and pushed his chair in. He tapped his fingers on the table, regarding her mildly. Elizabeth remained stoic, feet planted. She'd gone to great lengths to secure passage, and she would not be cowed this time. Not by pleading eyes or by a sword. He could threaten her all he wanted.

Jack looked at the door. Elizabeth closed it.

"That's better," he said. "You want to stop Ephraim Gerrarrd from what he's doing?"

"You don't _know _what he's doing," she said. "He's thousands of miles away!"

"He is. But I know the man." Jack hesitated for the briefest instant, as though warring over whether or not to say what he did next. "We worked together."

Elizabeth's irritated stare turned incredulous. "You – _what_?"

"Many years ago," Jack said quietly, "before _Black Pearl_… before many things, Elizabeth Swann, yes, I worked with him. I'll say no more than that. During the ten years that Barbossa wreaked havoc with my ship, I drifted from island to island, and Gerrarrd was a great schemer even then. Yes, I know Ephraim's plans. And what we need to stop him is in County Kent."

She found she could do nothing but sputter. "You--and--but--_how_?"

He was clearly enjoying the reaction. "It's a long story, Elizabeth, one I don't care to tell just yet, but I'm sure the good people of the Caribbean will appreciate our efforts once all is said and done."

She just stared.

Jack was suddenly all business. "You said you had clearance?"

Elizabeth shut her mouth and quickly took stock of the situation. Fine; she could give as well as she got. "I have the papers. We'll go together under the guise of visiting my sick aunt. She's downstairs whenever we want to leave."

"_She_?" Jack blinked. "Who? Your aunt?"

"Not quite. Just our method of getting to her." Elizabeth gestured to the window and managed not to smirk.

Jack immediately went to the window and looked out, and his gulp was nearly audible. Oh, that little bit of gold jewelry had gone a great deal further in Dennot than it would have in Port Royal.

Standing in front of the building was a sturdy-looking black mare, who Elizabeth knew was causing a fair amount of trouble to anyone that passed too close to her.

Jack's audible sigh was enough to make every bloody cross-stitch she'd done over the past few months completely worthwhile.

"Elizabeth," she heard him mutter, "you're far too industrious for your own good…"

-----------------

_Next time, on 'Silence' – introducing Captain Turner! _

_(Oh, and the thing about sailors not liking horses? We'll find out how very true it is.) _


	25. Introducing Captain Turner

_(bit of a long 'un here, gang.) _

_**Noble Bay **_

****"Maybe you shouldn't pull on her mouth that way," Elizabeth said after an hour of watching Jack struggle to lead the black mare across a creek. So far, all that had been accomplished was a thorough drenching of the displaced captain.

Jack was nearly yanked off his feet as the mare flung up her head again. "Elizabeth, _darling_, when I want your opinion… _oof_!" An inopportune shove by the mare sent him toppling backwards into the creek, where he sat in some surprise. Elizabeth covered her mouth as he looked at the water, and then at the now-still mare. "That was uncalled for, young miss."

"Are you talking to the horse, or to me?"

"Both, it would seem. You bought her purely to watch me struggle, didn't you?" Jack stood up and glared at the mare, who swished her tail.

Seated primly in their old and creaky wagon, Elizabeth shook her head. "Believe it or not, she was the only one I could afford."

"I can see why. Obstinate creature."

Again, Elizabeth couldn't decide which female Jack was referring to, though watching the horse and the pirate argue was certainly better than any of Hermione's ill-timed jokes.

The mare whinnied loudly. Jack looked at her unflinchingly. "Yes, you _are_. Wench."

Elizabeth pulled her shawl more snugly about her shoulders. "We should get to the inn before nightfall," she warned. "There's likely to be all sorts of unsavory sorts on the road after dark."

Jack tugged on the bridle again. The mare shook her head vigorously back and forth, and Jack stumbled away. "Ow! Well, Lizzie, if _you _think you can do it, by all means come coax this wretched creature across!"

Elizabeth shuddered. "I don't want to get wet."

"But you'll let me get wet, is that it?"

"You're a sailor," she pointed out, "and your ship leaked quite badly last time I was aboard her. I thought you'd be used to it."

Jack glowered briefly at that, and then gave the mare another tug. The lovely mare, who looked more like one of Lord Owlsley's racing string than a baker's cast-off, refused to accommodate his demand and knocked him over again.

Watching the poor captain get so agitated over it secretly made Elizabeth's day, but she kept her smile hidden beneath well-timed coughs. "You, Captain, should know that when you try to force a woman into doing something, it doesn't end well."

"And don't we have a pristine example of that in front of us," he muttered, making a show of brushing the water off his trousers. "Lizzie, my dear, I _insist _you come down here and try working whatever feminine magic you think you possess on this sordid creature. Clearly, she and I are not…" He looked the mare in the eye, "…communicating."

Elizabeth huffed, and then carefully climbed down. _At this point, I'd dance a jig if it'd get us across this pathetic excuse for a body of water, _she thought. She ran a hand down the mare's neck, gently patting a matted bit of mane. "Sweetling," she said, "we need to get across this creek so we can reach an inn. We'll bed you down in a stall of soft straw, and feed you the most delicious treats from the cook…"

Jack snorted. "Appealing with treats. Typical female."

"You shut up," she said in the same soothing tone. The mare's ears had pricked forward by now, and Elizabeth put a foot in the water. "Come on now, lovely lady, let's just cross, one step at a time…"

The entire wagon shuddered and creaked as the mare took a step after her. Jack's little comments abruptly halted as Elizabeth led the horse into the middle of the creek. "There, you see, Captain? All she needed was someone to appeal to her gentler nature."

Jack gave a dubious snort. "Is that what you call it?"

"Clearly it worked better than _your _methods." Come on, there's a good girl—" The mare balked, and Elizabeth was jerked backwards. "Oh, wait—"

Feeling the tug on her mouth again, the mare flung up her head and half-reared. Elizabeth toppled forward and landed face-down in two feet of water.

When she stood up, the mare was again quiet and Jack was guffawing on the other side. "Appeal to her gentler nature, did you, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth considered her dripping clothing. "I feel," she said, "like a drowned rat."

"You look it, too," he assured her. "Though as always, you make a fetching drowned rat."

She hid her glower with her hair. "A pox on you, Mr. Kendrick."

"Oh, of course," he said, still chuckling. "But I'd say you just made the entire trip across the Atlantic well worth it!"

----------------

It was dark by the time they managed to forge across the creek. The black mare went along happily enough, perhaps feeling she'd caused enough trouble for one day. That didn't stop Jack from calling her Dirce in honor of _her treacherous ways_, and he called the mare by that name at every opportunity he got.

The road reached over a hill, and Elizabeth reached into the back of the wagon to pull a blanket out. Her clothing was still damp, and her teeth chattered. "The inn should be just ahead," she said. "I need a warm fire and lots of stew."

Jack just grunted.

The inn materialized on the roadside soon enough, with only a few windows lit. Elizabeth almost clapped her hands in delight. "Look, Jack, they aren't too busy!"

"Wait," he said, reining the mare in. "Look to the side there. How many horses do you see?"

She squinted and tried to count. "I don't know, maybe a dozen?"

He tightened the reins and pulled the mare's head to the left, effectively steering them off the road. "I thought as much."

"Wait, where are we going? The inn's that way!"

"That inn is _infested_, m'lady. Mr. Cade said as much before we left."

"Said as much about _what_?" Elizabeth had been loading up the wagon when Jack and Mr. Cade had exchanged their farewells, but she remembered the man hadn't been terribly happy to see them leave. She clutched at the side of the seat as the wagon rumbled over the embankment. "Jack, this is madness."

"Highwaymen," he said, and Elizabeth abruptly stopped talking. "The roads aren't as safe as they once were."

"But Lord Owlsley assured me that the inn was frequented by soldiers!"

"Highwaymen," he repeated. "C'mon, Lizzie. His Majesty's men have left the area. I can't take twelve men with guns and neither can you."

"But where will we _stay_?"

"Under the stars." He flicked the reins at the mare, and for once, the creature did not revolt. Her hooves thudded softly in the dirt, and the wagon creaked in protest as she fled into the murk, lit only by a ribbon of moonlight.

Soon, the sound of hoofbeats followed them.

----------------

_**Meanwhile, back in Noble Bay **_

The little _Helene _stumbled into Noble Bay after a voyage that even the most pernicious of captains would have to agree was speedy.

Will staggered off the ship and promptly dropped to his knees on the dock, running his hands along the damp wood. _Thank-you thank-you thank-you… I never want to go to sea again, never ever ever…_

"Captain Turner?"

He stifled a moan, stood up, and turned to face his adopted crew. The dozen men of the _Helene _looked over Noble Bay with uncertain faces, and it was up to him to put them at ease. He tried a welcoming smile. "This is your new home," he said, glancing at the harbor out of the corner of his eye. In the weeks since he'd left with _Wickedry_, new buildings had gone up – and more ships dropped anchor. "Noble Bay."

The men just looked at him. Will struggled for words and names to fit to the puzzled faces; he thought the first mate might be Louis. "Dugald," he said, suddenly desperate to be away from them, "please take them to Corby and see that they receive their portion of the bounty."

Dugald wasted no time in ushering the men to the ramshackle building in the center of Gerrarrd's little town, and Will wavered up the pathway to the little hut he'd adopted. A brief survey of the harbor revealed that _Wickedry _had not returned, or perhaps she'd already made a quick turnaround. His pace quickened as he took the final steps, and swung the door open—

Bootstrap looked up from a bowl of soup. "Son."

Will took a deep breath. _Helene _had returned to Noble Bay far ahead of schedule; Gerrarrd would not have acted rashly. "Father. How are you?"

Bootstrap grunted. "Winter."

Will inspected the fire and dropped another log on it, and then decided his little adopted hovel looked to be in order. "Are your ankles hurting again?"

He knelt in front of his father's bare feet to examine the swollen joint. "We'll have to see if Sharky can give you more of that magic potion he's got. Make the best of Captain Gerarrd's generosity."

Bootstrap pulled his foot away and picked up his spoon again, clenching it tightly in his fist. "While it lives."

Will almost smiled as he stood up. Bootstrap's comments, while not always completely within context, tended to border on suspicious whenever dear Ephraim came up. "We took a ship. A little sloop."

"Yours?"

"I suppose she is now, isn't she? Her name is _Helene_. The dock crews will repaint her as soon as the cargo is offloaded." He rather hoped Dugald would take care of that; Will had no desire to venture back aboard a ship until he was absolutely ordered to. "There wasn't even a fight."

"Reputation."

"So it would seem."

He fixed himself a bowl of soup, wrinkling his nose at the odor that seemed to permeate the little shack. While Bootstrap Bill's company had definitely improved, his cleaning skills hadn't. Will needed to give the place a thorough scrubbing before he tried to sleep in it.

He wondered if his father would ever return to something resembling a functioning being. True, Bootstrap didn't munch on his hands very much anymore, and Will had felt confident enough to leave him in the hovel with only one of Gerrarrd's men to stop in on him every few hours. But Bootstrap Bill was not _alive_, not really.

"Always was ambitious."

Will looked at the cabin wall, and then back at his father. "What?"

"Ephraim. Wanted more… wanted…" Bootstrap looked into his soup. "…_things_…"

Will hesitantly sat down across from him. "He said he knew you. Before the… before the curse." It was a sensitive subject; the last time he'd brought it up, Bootstrap had flown into a rage and broken two windows.

There was no such fit this time. Bootstrap licked his spoon. "Fact."

"So that must have been years and years ago."

His father didn't even nod at that. Will tried not to feel frustrated. "You were pirates together?"

"Pirates?" Bootstrap turned to him, and laughter rose anew in his throat – a dry, hacking laugh that reminded Will of a choking parrot rather than a man. "No, no, not pirates."

Will caught Bootstrap's right hand as it drifted up to his mouth. "Not pirates? Then what? Father, _what_?"

Bootstrap gave him a slow smile, and said no more.

----------------

That night, he took his ease in a ramshackle tavern that had sprung up after _Wickedry _sailed. They had only grog – likely pilfered off various ships – but he welcomed the liquid as he took it down by the establishment's lone fireplace.

_At least Father is improving. _Yes; that much was undeniable – Bootstrap had nearly carried on a conversation, and what's more, made _sense _while doing it. Clearly he didn't trust Gerrarrd, yet he showed no distress in his situation.

If _Bootstrap _didn't feel threatened, why should Will? They were both integral to whatever Gerrarrd's plan was, weren't they?

_Though I fail to see what part I possibly play… _He twirled a coin on the table and tried to banish his darker thoughts. If Gerrarrd didn't need him after all, there was not much point in keeping him around. Perhaps he was meant to serve as some sort of amusement? _Aye, lads, watch poor Willie Turner fumble his way through piracy!_

Will sighed. _I guess that's purpose enough._

"You're looking far too sad for a man of the brethren," someone said. Will glanced up as an imposingly-built figure set a foamy mug in front of him. "Drink up."

"I can't take anymore grog," he objected.

"S'not grog, lad. Real rum right there. Have a sip then, or a gulp. It's rude to deny the offered drink, you know."

Will took a moderate gulp of the rum and studied the fair-haired man as he sat down. "You're Errol, aren't you."

"The one and only. And you, my friend, are Will Turner." He leaned forward, a grin pulling at the edge of his mouth. "So tell me! Is Gerrarrd as mad as they say?"

Will gave it some thought. "I think his _ideas _are mad. _He _seems… well enough, in the head." A second gulp, and the rum warmed his belly. "But I've been with my father, so…"

"So just about anything else is rational, aye? There's been talk of your poor pa since Gerrarrd brought him around, true enough. From what I'm told, your very presence has done more than a good many of the captain's witch doctors ever could."

"Witch doctors?" The notion made Will queasy. A glance over the rim of his mug revealed Errol studying him closely with large brown eyes, something of a knowing smile on his face. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, you've never taken an interest in me before. Why…?"

"Oh, everyone wants a good look at Winsome Will Turner, who commandeered a ship without killing a single man."

Will gagged on his rum. "_Winsome Will_?"

"Well, you are a bit prettier than most of us, aren't you, Wilsie?" Errol smiled. "Not a lot of scars on you. If Gerrarrd ever brings us women, they'll be all over you."

"Women?"

"He promised us maidens," Errol said dismissively. "I have me own doubts, but some of the men still hope for it."

"Maidens?" Will contemplated his rum. "He specifically said maidens?"

"One for each man!"

Will wondered just where Gerrarrd intended to _find _enough maidens to satisfy every man in Noble Bay; surely Port Royal couldn't have that many. _And who knows if they're maidens anyway, _he thought, clenching his teeth slightly. _Who are we to question them if they claim they are? _"I don't think there's near enough maidens in all of the Caribbean to keep that promise."

"Mmm-hmm. That's why you're a captain, and most of the men are not."

Will studied his rum, and then blinked. What had Errol just called him? "What?"

"The more intelligent ones become captains."

He laughed easily at that; this rum was more potent than he thought. "I'm not a captain. I just sailed the _Helene _in."

Errol watched him steadily. "Yes… and the ship is listed under your name. Dugald and the men answer to you. Quite an impressive little ship for a first command, if I say so meself."

"But… but I don't _sail_," Will said. "I'm a _blacksmith_."

"Sailed her well enough back here, didn't you?"

Clearly, the man did not know how to listen. "I just said to come back here, and that's what they _did_."

"Oh, you'll need to learn your sea-charts and your stars. But Dugald'll scare them into obeying for awhile." Errol raised an eyebrow. "You all right there, mate?"

Outside. He had to get outside. _Now. _What remained of the rum spilled onto the harsh wooden surface of the table as Will leaped for the door, pushing it off its hinges in his desperation to escape. The cool harbor breeze immediately shocked him back into reality, and he placed his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. _Lying. Or spreading more rumors. That's the way this place runs…_

"It won't do to let your crew see you like this."

Oh, good God in heaven, Errol had followed him. "They're not _my _crew."

"But they are, Will. Signed and delivered. You took the ship back and it's yours. Gerrarrd gave very specific orders about that."

"Gerrarrd is mad," he said crossly. "I'm no sailor."

"I agree," Errol said easily. He clapped Will on the back. "That hasn't stopped Gerrarrd, though, and it best not stop you, if you value your father's life."

Will closed his eyes. _Ah, it always comes down to this again, doesn't it? _He shoved Errol's hand away and whirled on him, teeth bared. "It's growing tiresome, Errol. 'Do this, Winsome Willie, or Bootstrap gets deepsixed!' 'Dance for me, Turner, if you want ol'da-da to live!' I don't know what Gerrarrd's game is, but I'm bloody tired of it!"

Errol bowed graciously. "I understand your frustration, Captain Turner."

"Oh, I really don't think you do," he said bitterly.

Errol shrugged. "It's up to you whether you believe it or not, but I do. With that said, Gerrarrd's a man of his word. Serve him well and you'll advance. Betray him and you'll pay."

He closed his eyes. "And I've no way to escape him."

"No. None of us do. Not yet, anyway. And by the time you do have that chance, mayhaps you won't want to get away." Something in Errol's voice changed minutely, and Will sneaked a glance at him. The older pirate was looking off into the distance, studying the sea and her mysteries. "It's an intoxicating life, lad. Not always kind, rarely generous, but something about it… I don't know if you can understand it."

Will thought of Jack Sparrow then, with his flashing eyes and ready wit. Did Jack look at the sea the same way? "I don't," he mumbled, "but I knew a man once who did."

Errol sent him a sideways look. "Yes," he said, "I believe you did."

The two men stood there in relative silence for a moment, listening to merriment within the tavern and the soft island breeze that whisked around them. Perhaps it was all just a test; a plant from Gerrarrd to see if Winsome Will would run off with a new ship. With Dugald aboard, it wasn't bloody likely. _Hell_, he thought, _he's got me cornered. Clever man. _"What are my orders, then?"

"Sail for Tortuga." Errol handed him a slip of parchment. "It's time to spread the word."

No chance of escaping in Tortuga, then. Not when he was surrounded by men not yet bout to Gerrarrd and his new brethren. _Still, if not today, then perhaps tomorrow… _He decided to risk it, and turned to Errol again. "Who was it?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Errol chuckled. "Perceptive lad, aren't you?" He sucked in a breath and released it, stretching his arms up over his head. "It was my daughter," he said, his voice never changing. "She was nine."

_She was nine. _"And now?"

"Why, now I'm as loyal to Ephraim Gerrarrd as any other man in the Caribbean. As loyal as Bootstrap. As loyal as you." He inclined his head and dropped into an exaggerated bow. "Top of the evening to you, Captain Turner. May your family fare better than mine."

He strolled off into the night, leaving Will to watch – and plan.

-----

The next morning dawned clear and sharp. Will and Bootstrap met the crew of the _Helene _alongside the little sloop, and Will was pleased to see that none of the men looked terribly hungover. Perhaps Gerrarrd's idea of serving them grog rather than straight rum had some merit.

_Did I really just think that? _He tried to look as authoritative as possible, and had put off his morning shave in order to appear a little older. He'd donned a leathery-looking vest over his stained white shirt, and his trousers were patched and showed a number of bloody fingerprints from Bootstrap's nibbling. If he wanted to be a captain, he needed to _look _like a captain – a tough one.

"We're going to sail for Tortuga by the week's end," he said, pleased that his voice sounded clear and strong. "Our mission is simple: to let them know of Noble Bay. Captain Gerrarrd thinks it time to swell our numbers."

He looked at Bootstrap. "Some of you have heard of my father, Bootstrap Bill Turner. He will be joining us in this mission."

Dugald coughed. Will sent him a sharp look, but the man had a perfectly innocent expression on his face. Bootstrap, clean-shaven and staring into the sky, appeared completely unaware as to what was going on at all.

Will plunged on ahead. "We will take on stores before we leave. But our first mission is the ship herself." He pointed at the trim lines of the _Helene_, and wondered if he ought to change the ship's name; _Helene _sounded far too gentle for a fierce pirate ship. Maybe the _Hellcat _would fit her better? "We will repaint her. What the docks give us is all we have to work with, so have a care."

"'Spensive," Bootstrap murmured. "Too 'spensive."

Will nodded. Where Gerrarrd had gotten hold of such paint, he certainly didn't know, but he wasn't about to question orders now. Taking Bootstrap to Tortuga might secure him from any Noble Bay locals that Gerrarrd had, but who knew what sort of loyalties were already ingrained in the _Helene_'s crew?

_To say nothing of Dugald_, he thought, eyeing the huge sailor. _He could crush my head with his thumbs. _

No, there were no safe harbors in this new life. But so long as he followed his orders, he and Bootstrap always had a chance to escape… perhaps not today, but there was always tomorrow.

Until then, he had the _Helene, _and his nightmares.

"No questions?" He gave them a moment, and then felt his fists unclenching in relief. "Then dismiss, and re-assemble here within the hour!"

"Aye, Captain Turner!"

It was only later in the day, watching the men – _his _men – repaint the ship, that Will realized he rather liked the title.

----

_Next, on Silence… _

_Anamaria has grave news for the Commodore… and County Kent is suddenly very unpleasant. We also find out if the author can still write a ship-to-ship battle!_


	26. Norrington and the Freaky Plot Point

_Greetings, me hearties. Trying to write Corwin again was the hardest thing I've done in awhile. _

_-----------------------------------_

**_Somewhere in the Caribbean... _**

****

"Fire!"

Better than a dozen cannon went off, the roar filling Corwin's ears and driving a good many hits into the hull of a black-painted brigantine. Chunks of wood blew outward, landing in the choppy seas or splintering upwards to skewer members of the brigantine's crew.

"Reload!"

_Relentless _tracked with the wind, her clean lines easily skimming across the bay. The brigantine – still without a name to curse at – finished loading her own guns, and Corwin barely had time to shout a warning before _Relentless _was peppered by cannonballs.

_They loaded that ship down, I'll give them that, _he thought from the deck as a shot sailed over his head. The men on the brigantine might not have the best aim in the Caribbean, but one didn't always need fine aim when one had twentyodd guns at his disposal. _Relentless _rocked to the side, and lines snapped.

"Fire!"

It never got old. Corwin knew that victory was inevitably his; the brigantine ran like she had a foul bottom, and the sloppy handling of her guns spoke of either nitwits or untrained sailors. _Relentless _could win this one…

…if their luck held.

Smoke burned his nostrils, the acrid scent of spent shot and the liquid tin of blood mixing together to form a nasty haze over the deck. Corwin stepped over the body of one of a sailor and cupped a hand around his mouth to shout aft: "Bring us in closer!"

"Aye sir, closer!"

"_Closer_?" Macey demanded. "Are you mad?"

"This needs to end swiftly, I've got an appointment to keep!" Corwin lifted his hand, and then dropped it again. "_Fire_! Fire at will, do not cease until the order is given!"

The shooting degenerated into the _plunk-blam-plunk _of many guns going off at different intervals, but it would have to do for now. _Relentless _eased in closer to the brigantine, and now a man at the bow shouted her name: _Hunter. _Corwin pursed his lips and did not respond; such a fine name did not benefit a scruffy-looking vessel such as that.

_Relentless _settled into an uncomfortable course, still abreast of her damned opponent. Sporadic fire spat from her side, but _Hunter, _with such an inviting target, could now give as well as she received.

Something cracked overhead. Corwin looked up and spotted a chunk of spar plummeting towards him. He grabbed Macey's arm and leaped backward, both of them landing in a rather unbecoming pile on the heaving deck as the spar shattered against the rail. Somewhere nearby, a sailor howled as a splinter pierced him.

Macey gaped. "Thanks."

Corwin clapped him on the shoulder and scrambled to the wheel, where a frazzled-looking sailor kept the ship on course. "Stockwin! Bring us in as close as you can!"

"Sir?"

He sighed inwardly. _Must everyone question me? _"Take us in close – _closer_ – we'll rake the decks and be done with this nonsense!"

"Yes sir, closer sir!" Stockwin gulped audibly, but brought the helm over. Corwin ran back down to the main deck and leaned into the open hatch.

"The decks, men, the decks!"

He had no idea if they heard him; he'd need to hope one of the powder monkeys would at least spread the word. The sailors still on the main deck were all armed, though as he contemplated their numbers he noted that more than a few were injured. "Any man who feels he can board or repel fire, to me! The rest – look after those who cannot." It was hardly an ideal situation, but then again, nothing about the Caribbean was really ideal these days.

The _Hunter _loomed closer, a battlescarred remnant of a merchantman. Corwin hefted his pistol into one hand and scanned along the brigantine's decks, searching for anyone who looked like he was in a position of authority. _Take the captain, take the ship_, he recited inwardly.

_Relentless _heeled over as a trio of shots struck her hull just above the waterline, and then unleashed her own bombardment. Corwin spotted a figure swathed in red waving his hands on the aft deck of the brigantine, and squinted one eye shut. _You may not be the captain, but you'll do…_

He squeezed off the shot, and the figure abruptly ceased its orating and toppled forward onto the main deck. Corwin allowed himself a quiet hoot of delight before something rumbled within _Relentless_'s hull, and the ship hauled minutely to starboard as her full battery of port guns went off in near-tandem. Corwin stumbled backwards, dropping his pistol and reaching out to stop his fall.

"Look out! Look out!" _Pop-BLAM! _Corwin tried to turn around—

_Thunk. _Something heavy crashed into his back, and he slammed into the deck. Slivers of wood and bits of rope rained down, sticking into his legs and unprotected neck. _Bloody hell!_

But then it stilled, and he realized he was not quite dead.

"Commodore, are you all right?" Macey fought to be heard over the smattering of gunfire that still went on. "Commodore?"

"I'm fine," he said, sitting up. The back of his neck burned, but the cheers of his men told him that _Relentless _had won the day. "The other?"

"Running for it, sir. Should we pursue?"

Part of him longed to chase after the pirates and demand information, but he also knew that Anamaria Soledad would not wait much longer. Sighing, Corwin rubbed the back of his neck and drew back his bloodied hand. "No. Drop anchor and ready a boat. Keep on your guard, though."

"Aye, sir."

Corwin stood up and started aft, only to stare in astonishment at the smoking piece of metal and ash in front of him. "What… what happened here?"

"The gun blew, sir."

Macey looked so matter-of-fact about the entire thing that Corwin wondered if he were making it up; the smoldering pile was little more than a foot away from where he'd been standing. "Just now?"

"Aye."

So Macey had pushed him out of the way. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Macey cracked a smile. "Just returning the favor, Commodore."

---------------------------------------------

Anamaria met him in the burnt-out remains of a tavern, and the thin set of her lips suggested she'd been standing there for quite awhile. "Captain Soledad," Corwin said, refusing to quicken his step for a pirate, "my apologies. We ran into some… trouble."

"That _trouble _had best be the brigantine that just sailed past," she said. "'Else I've little use for you."

"Her name is _Hunter_," he said, irritated by both her assumption that _she _was using _him and _that he was puffing slightly from the long walk up the pier. "_Relentless _is making repairs as we speak."

"And a good thing for you, Commodore—"

"Corwin," he said.

"_Corwin_," she repeated. "For there will be more on the way. Gerrarrd has a good many ships prowling the seas, and this _Hunter _o'yours will run to find them."

He gave her a dark look, and then transferred the bulk of his attention to the ruined tavern. "What happened here?"

"Thieves," she said. "Or pirates. Or some fools with matches. You said you had _news_, Commodore Corwin."

"So I do." He quietly enjoyed the clipped edge to her words; now _he _had the upper hand in the conversation. Anamaria Soledad certainly would not leave until Corwin played his hand, so he had no trouble engaging in a little small talk. "I'm surprised you haven't joined up with Gerrarrd," he said. "Word all over the Caribbean has him everywhere and nowhere. Two islands were attacked on the same day, within hours of each other – _Wickedry _can't be that fast."

She didn't answer. Corwin hid a grin. "Come now, Captain, have you nothing to say?"

"Would ye be toyin' with Jack Sparrow were he here now, Commodore? Or is it just me who gains that particular blessing?"

He looked at her. "To be perfectly honest, Captain, if Jack Sparrow were here, I'd just as soon hang him."

She pursed her lips and nodded, but there was still a hint of defiance in her stance. Corwin looked back at the tavern and realized that now was hardly the time to bait her. Pirate or not, Anamaria Soledad and the _Black Pearl _were the closest thing he had to allies left in the Caribbean, and in these unhappy times…

He played his hand. "Your captain lives."

Soledad sucked in her breath, but otherwise gave no hint of surprise. "Ye've spoken to him, then?"

He pulled the water-stained letter from inside his overcoat and handed it to her. She held the paper with nimble-looking fingers, her lips moving as she silently read it to herself. Corwin tore his gaze away from her and contented himself with looking out to sea, trying to get a read on the weather. _Relentless _would need to make a swift run for home if she wanted to beat the incoming storm.

"England," she said at last, baffled. "Why England?"

"I was hoping you could answer that, Captain Soledad."

She shook her dark head, handing the paper back to him. "I know Jack, but I don't _know _Jack. What 'e does is more mystery than method, but… England?"

He took distinct pleasure in the baffled look on her face. "Then we have an accord? We've no idea what he's doing in England."

"No…" Soledad turned around and started walking down a narrow path. "But we can find out."

"Wait!" Corwin caught up with her and stumbled over a narrow trench in the ground. "How do you plan to go about this? Take the _Black Pearl _to England?"

"Ha! Ye think large, Commodore Corwin, but nay. I've nothing in those waters, and half the crew'd just as soon dive o'erboard than make that journey."

He caught her arm and jerked her to a halt. "Than _what_, Anamaria?"

She glared at him with furious dark eyes. "Un_hand_ me, Corwin!"

He spoke very quietly: "Then tell me what you propose to _do_."

Soledad contemplated him, and then her hand snaked out and caught his collar. She jerked him down close to her face, close enough to feel her breath against his cheek as she dropped her voice to a whisper. "We can't be sittin' on our hands any longer, Corwin Norrington. Gerrarrd's strength stretches the length o'the Caribbee, and I happen t'know where it is he calls home."

"Where?" When Soledad didn't answer, Corwin had to restrain himself from grabbing her shoulders and giving her a good shake. "_Where_?"

"A place called Noble Bay. It's not on the maps. I can take ye there…"

He waited.

"…if you'll get another boat."

Corwin blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"_Black Pearl_'s too recognizable. So are both of _your _little ladies. So we'll take another one. Unmarked. Sloop, if you have one."

He managed a smile. "What makes you think I have such a ship at my disposal?"

She sent him a frank look. "Ye be the Commodore, Corwin. Any ship ye like is at your _disposal_. Commandeer one if you must… and come along. We've little time."

He followed her down the path to a waiting boat lodged in a narrow inlet, where one Joshamee Gibbs stood guard with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. Gibbs nearly withered with relief once Soledad was back in sight, though he looked at Corwin warily. "What's this, Captain?"

"Jack's in England," Soledad said briskly.

Gibbs's jaw dropped. "England?"

"Aye. You'll be fetchin' him on the next trader."

"_What_?" Gibbs and Corwin both demanded.

"You expect to entrust it to _him_?"

"I've not been in English waters since we came across, Captain—"

"I don't care _what _misgivings ye have, Joshamee, you'll go across and you'll find him! He's – where are they, Norrington?"

The sudden switch to his last name startled him, but Corwin merely looked at the paper again. "The Cade residence. Dennot."

Gibbs's face crinkled up. "S'near Sheerness, isn't it?"

"Bring him _back_," Anamaria said. "We've got to get to – where will they sail from?"

Corwin hesitated. "I'm probably going to regret this, but the _Kenyon _made it to Port Royal. She's scheduled to sail in a week's time…"

Gibbs paled. Soledad wheeled on Corwin, grabbing the lapels of his coat. "Can ye bugger 'em into sailing for Dennot? Or Sheerness?"

He smiled thinly. "Perhaps."

"Do it. Run along. Gibbs, make ready to sail for Port Royal – oh, Commodore, you'll make sure no one gives us trouble, won't ye?"

_Who am I to deny the great Captain Soledad anything? _"If _Relentless _can beat you to port, then yes." He looked over at Gibbs, wondering if they were really planning out some whirlwind race to England to find yet _another _pirate to cause him trouble. "Tell them what's happening, Gibbs. Tell her…"

"Her?"

"The Swann girl," Soledad said.

"She's with _Jack_?" Gibbs paled even further. Corwin didn't have time to ponder that; if he wanted to beat the swift _Black Pearl _home to Port Royal, _Relentless _needed to get underway immediately.

Corwin and Soledad each grabbed one of Gibbs's arms and settled him into the boat, each delivering their own sets of instructions. "Tell them everything," he said over Soledad's sharp warnings. "Tell them what's happening. What you know. Tell them…" He looked at the sky again. "Hell, I'll write you a letter to give them."

Gibbs just nodded.

Corwin and Soledad looked at each other over the dumbstruck sailor's head. "Until Port Royal, Captain Soledad?"

Her smile, though fleeting, was real. "Until Port Royal, Commodore."

------------------------

_**Somewhere in England…**_

****

Jack struck the last highwayman sharply between the shoulder blades, and as the man pitched forward, Elizabeth brought the butt of the sword down atop his head.

Once the man hit the ground, he moved no more. Jack nodded approvingly. "Well-done, Miss Lizzie."

"When are you going to teach me how to fight _properly_?" she asked.

"When we've got the time," he said evasively, trudging toward the black mare and their wagon. For once, the flighty creature hadn't spooked at the fighting, and Elizabeth thanked whatever deity was still listening to her for that.

She cursed quietly and followed him. They'd been running all over what she certainly _hoped _was County Kent for the better part of two days, taking refuge in the woods when the outlaws grew too thick to simply outfight them. Jack might have his pistol and sword, but even the fabled Captain Sparrow didn't have an everlasting supply of ammunition.

"Dirce, you wretched female, how are you doing?" Jack clapped the mare's neck and narrowly-avoided a nip. "Oh, still feeling perky? That's lovely. Up you go now, 'Lizbeth."

"Will you _please _stop calling me those insipid nicknames?" She took his hand and hopped up into the seat, and smoothed the front of her dress down as he climbed up beside her. "It's so undignified."

"Certainly, Liz," he replied. He flicked the reins at the mare and Dirce started off again, inching her way down a slope. "Won't be far now."

"How can you tell?" Inwardly, she hoped he was telling the truth and not just spitting out more of his ever-reliable stories. Still, some part of her was rather enjoying the adventure.

He shrugged. "Just can. Old sailor's trick. The land's changed, you know. I can smell it in the air, I can taste it in the water…"

Elizabeth sighed.

-----------------------------

They found a tiny inn by the roadside, and Jack decreed they would stay there until the next morning. Elizabeth slipped the innkeeper an extra coin to look after the black mare, and trudged up to their rented room glumly. After living in the Cade residence for so long, she'd thought not much could phase her, but the Crowing Rooster possessed even fewer amenities.

She touched the place on her neck where she'd once worn her little gold necklace, and thought of her warm bed at home.

An arm draped around her shoulders. "It's almost done, lass," Jack said. "I know the area. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" If she could elicit a promise, it might make all the difference.

"Aye, tomorrow." He let her lean on him for a few minutes, and she felt his fingers absently toying with a lock of her hair. "The braggart downstairs has promised us a decent meal, though likely nothing our stomachs will thank us for."

Elizabeth pulled away and moved to their meager packs of belongings on the bed. Carefully sliding the sword out of its scabbard, she offered it to him.

Jack took it and spun the blade around with easy grace. "What's on your mind, lass?"

"We've been beset by highwaymen too often to not give me a chance," she said. "I can chop at things, and I've watched Father and Will and the Commodore, but I want to learn."

Jack just regarded her silently.

She tried not to sigh. "Can you _please _teach me?"

Jack scraped thoughtfully at his chin with the sword. "Can I, certainly. The question you wish to ask me is _will I?_"

The look she sent him was at best predatory, at worst murderous. He grinned jauntily at her, something of his old bravado seeping back into his stride. "All right, Miss Swann, I'll teach you how to fight."

He marched right out of the room then, leaving Elizabeth to wonder if he'd run off for good. But he was back in a few minutes, holding a fairly sturdy-looking stick in his hands. He twirled the stick around once, nodded, and handed it to her.

She looked at it. "It's a stick."

Jack shrugged. "We've all got to start somewhere, dearie."

"It's still a stick."

"And you're not holding it right. Do you want this lesson or not, Miss Swann? There's people who would pay a king's ransom to learn from Jack Sparrow!"

_And you'd just as soon steal it before teaching them, _she thought, but moved to grasp the stick in the manner he suggested. He showed her a handful of things to keep in mind: the position of her arms, where she put her feet – and then looked her dead in the eye. "Now, Liz, I think the best way to learn something is to simply _do _it, don't you agree?"

There was no hint of suggestion in his voice, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes anyway. "I suppose."

He rushed her.

Elizabeth warded off the first blow, but then had to pull the stick back in order to parry his second strike. Jack moved like wind over water, feigning and twirling and generally putting on quite a good show. Elizabeth tried to watch the flashing gray of his blade, bringing her stick up to meet it when she could and then simply running away if that failed.

He cornered her by the bed. "I said _teach _me, not kill me!"

Jack smiled. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

It _was _a lesson, she realized – an extreme lesson, but a lesson nonetheless. She lifted the stick overhead and whacked solidly at the blade, and succeeded in pushing him away from the corner slightly.

They made it to the other side of the room when Jack abruptly grinned. "One must wonder what our landlords think we're doing. Ah... wait, we're married, aren't we? Nothing improper. Perhaps just _different._"

Now he _did _leer slightly, and Elizabeth brought the stick against the sword hard. Jack moved away slowly, and she jammed the chopped-up piece of wood at his throat. "I believe I win, Mr. Kendrick."

"You have anger. Good." He sized her up. "You can use that. You can make it a weapon of your own. But never... _never... _let it dictate what you do." The blade came up under her chin and she suddenly found their positions reversed, and _her_ throat on the verge of being skewered. "When anger sweeps you away, you do things that are... stupid. Use it for your strength, not your mind."

Elizabeth just stared at him. "You're either brilliant, or just a terrible teacher."

"Depends on who you ask, doesn't it? That's enough for today." Jack lowered his blade, studying her panting form. "You'll be tired and sore. You need to work up to it."

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"Oh, now you are. But dear Elizabeth, look at your weapon."

She looked at the stick then, and blinked. It was worn down to nearly the bark in some places – courtesy of Jack's sword, no doubt. "I hit rather hard, don't I?"

"Just a bit."

She looked at him, and saw that he was smiling.

--------------------------------

_End J/E Fluff. :D_

_Next, on Silence: Anamaria and the Commodore plan to crash Gerrarrd's party, and Jack finds his purpose… so to speak. _

**p.s. **Does anyone know what "wo" means? I got it in a review and I'm not sure if it means wipeout or whoa or write on or is an insult that I'm just not getting… ;)


	27. Look! A NUN!

_Sorry for the late update... I've been finishing up my thesis/presenting it/job-hunting, so finding time to write up new chapters is a little tough. But I do think we're nearing the end. _

_**Look! A Nun!**_

_**Somewhere in County Kent… **_

The skies were still gray and overcast when Jack Kendrick crept into the quiet little church.

The place hadn't changed at all, and he found himself mildly disgusted by that fact. _They could have at least redecorated_, he thought, running a hand along the back pew. The wood even felt the same: chipped, well-used over the years. If he'd received a thunk on the head and lost some twelve years' worth of memories, he might well have thought he'd never left.

He glanced over his shoulder. The cracked-open door revealed the black flank of Elizabeth's darling nightmare not too far away; so the girl was keeping the creature under control. Well, good. He needed all the peace and quiet he could get.

_I haven't had any of that since she turned up again. _He noticed a priest standing at the altar, head bowed in prayer. Jack rubbed his chin, mentally counting the number of pews between himself and his quarry. Twelve years ago - thirteen, now? Maybe it was fourteen. _However many years ago... _there'd been only Jack and a single, unfotunate member of the British clergy.

Surely that man was dead by now. He'd looked ready for the grave even then.

Jack moved stealthily through the pews. His boots rasped softly against the uneven floorboards, and the priest glanced over his shoulder.

Jack flashed a grin, stepped into the nearest pew, and bowed his head. _He looks about a hundred. He'll be done soon._

He rather hoped the man wouldn't die at the altar. With Jack's luck, someone would blame _him. _

_The one crime I _didn't _commit..._

Elizabeth wouldn't be able to keep her bloody pet quiet for much longer. Dirce might be perfectly companionable for short periods of time, but whatever goodwill the horse had must drain out of her hooves. Jack would be quite glad once she was out of the picture completely.

He counted the pews again, and slunk forward three rows. The priest didn't turn around.

Jack thought about it for a moment, and then folded his hands in contemplation. _Dear Lord, you probably shouldn't watch this. _

Checking the priest one last time, Jack slid down the pew until he was seated on the roughened floor. His fingers scrabbled against the boards, and he bit his tongue against the splinters that invariably found their way into his fingers. _Come on, where is it, where is it... aha._

A thin seam opened, and he dug his fingernails into it. The entire board levied up with a slight groan, and Jack cringed. Unless the priest was deaf, he'd have heard that. Maybe the old man would think it was the door.

He reached into the dark space left behind by the board, and his fingers closed around a worn-feeling package. _Oh, yes. Yes yes! _And then the package was in his hand, yellowed fabric securing something that had once been more precious to him than all the jewels in the Caribbean.

"What are you _doing_?"

Jack looked up into the wizened features of the priest, and suddenly he was barely out of his teens. "I--uh--well--"

"_Wait_--" Recognition dawned, and Jack cursed his cleanliness. No one ever would have recognized him if he'd kept the beard and longer hair. As it was, the priest turned a particularly astounding shade of purple, and pointed a shaking finger at him. "_You!_"

"Me!" Jack, sensing he was trapped, pointed wildly in the opposite direction. "_Look_! A nun!"

The man actually turned around, and Jack was _almost _amazed that the trick still worked.

He leaped upward and made to shove past the priest, but his boot slammed down into the hole in the floor. The last thing he saw before toppling forward was the horrified look on the old man's face as Jack fell into his arms. "Holy Mother of--"

-------

Elizabeth and Dirce - it seemed she could not escape that name - sat outside a ramshackle-looking church and shared what remained of Elizabeth's lunch.

"Enjoy that," she said as the mare gobbled up a thin husk of bread. "It's all we've got left."

Dirce snorted and pawed at the dirt. Elizabeth laid a hand against her neck. "I almost hope Jack robs someone while he's in there," she said, adjusting a bit of inky mane. "Don't tell him I said that, though."

A bang echoed across from the church, and Elizabeth wheeled around as Dirce snapped her head up. The door had slammed open, and a certain black-haired pirate nearly fell over himself as he raced down the stairs. "Lizzie, let's go!"

She managed to clamber up into the wagon and snatch up the reins, muttering "my name is _not _Lizzie" all the while. Jack sprinted across the grass, and Elizabeth swore she saw a thin cloud of dust trailing from him. What the hell had he _done?_

An instant later she got her answer, as an impossibly old-looking priest ran out the door after him. The shock of white hair atop his head was belied by his strong stride, and both Elizabeth and Dirce gawked at him for a moment. "Please, please tell me he's joking..."

Jack scrambled up onto the seat beside her. "_Go_!"

"You have a _priest _chasing you?"

"He's not the man you think he is!"

"But what did you _do _to him?"

He clutched her wrist. "For the love of God, _go_!"

She shook the reins, and Dirce gladly lurched into a gallop. Somewhere in the background, a man of God howled blasphemes over the sound of hoofbeats, and Elizabeth imagined he was shaking his fist after them.

-----

Later, when Elizabeth slowed Dirce enough to uphold conversation, she asked after the package Jack now clutched. "Is that it? Is that what's going to save the Caribbean?"

"You don't believe me, love?"

"We just escaped from a _priest_, Jack. You'll excuse me if I don't know what to believe."

He nodded, and tucked the package under his arm. "I concede that point, Mrs. Kendrick. But it's a very long story... one best suited for another time."

"Will you at least tell me what happened with that priest?"

This time, he rewarded her with a smug grin. "Oh, believe me, Elizabeth, he had it coming..."

--------

_**Port Royal**_

Seeing Gibbs off on the _Kenyon _was one of the most satisfying experiences Corwin Norrington could recall in his recent memory.

It wasn't just that Gibbs stood at the stern of the ship with a mournful expression on his face as the vessel set off. It wasn't just the delicious smirk that Anamaria Soledad had worn as Corwin bullied the _Kenyon_'s hapless captain into depositing dear Joshamee at Dennot.

"What if he's not _there_?" Gibbs had asked, his eyes large. "I haven't been in England since--since--"

"If he's not there, then _find him_," Corwin replied with just the barest edge of a threat. He supposed there was a logical concern behind the pirate's words; if Sparrow had gone on the run again, it might well be another year - or more - before another clue turned up. All the more reason to frighten Gibbs into not coming back without the good captain.

Now, as the _Kenyon _headed for the open Atlantic, Corwin and Anamaria stood next to each other in his office, studying a series of maps and charts that were, as far as Anamaria was concerned, woefully inadequate.

"This - y'see, Corwin - this isn't _right_," she said. "I've _sailed _that place, and the way the islands are formed--"

Corwin tried not to sigh in exasperation. "These maps were made by the finest cartographer on the island!"

"Well, _clearly _your _carto _needs to take a tour," she snapped. "It's wrong."

"Fine." He clasped his hands in front of him to keep from tearing the maps to pieces. "Then show me where this mystery island of yours is."

That, at least, she could do without comment. Anamaria jabbed a finger down as though she'd been expecting the question. "There. Gerrarrd's paradise. Noble Bay." She watched his reaction carefully, but Corwin remained composed as he stared at the empty patch of blue.

"Interesting."

He betrayed no further emotion. Anamaria's dark eyes regarded him, and she kept her finger atop her purported island. "You've an idea, Commodore?"

Corwin went over to the window and stared glumly, resting his hands on the sill. If he squinted, he thought he could make out the _Kenyon _still moving in slowly through the offshore currents. "Do you know what I wrote in the letter I gave to Gibbs, Soledad?"

"Tweren't none of my business," she said. She didn't even sound curious.

He smiled at the port. "Governor Swann has taken ill."

There was a clanking of weaponry as Anamaria shifted. "Terrible shame, I'm sure." Everything about her voice asked _why are you telling me this?_

He rested his fingertips against the glass, and thought about pushing the window open and letting the breeze waft into the stuffy room. "He is prone to panic these days. You can understand why." He turned around, meeting Anamaria's mildly-confused gaze and giving her a thin smile. "He is... _concerned... _that he might miss his opportunity to see Elizabeth again."

Anamaria raised an eyebrow. "He's _dying_?"

"He _thinks _he's dying," Corwin said, pleased that Anamaria's expression didn't change. "I expect he'll pull through - but he wants to see his daughter. He's given me the authority to make certain that happens."

Anamaria rested her hands on her hips, and raised one smooth dark brow. "And how do you plan to do that, Commodore Corwin?"

He leaned against the side of his desk. "How do you feel about cursed pirates?"

----------------------

Corwin Norrington had taken over a few merchant vessels in his career -- for the King's purposes, of course -- but he still felt rather guilty as he divested Mr. Thomas Howard of his brilliant sloop _Torrential. _The crushed look on the man's face suggested he never expected to see his beloved ship again, and considering the mission Corwin intended to use her for - well, there was a stronger possibility of that very fear than he cared to admit.

Still, no other vessel would do. _Torrential _had speed and maneuverability, and could be manned by a handful of people - a crucial combination for this strange new mission he was set to undertake.

Corwin observed his new crew with some trepidation. Anamaria and two of her men stood off to the side, eyeing the other additions with as much distrust as he did.

On the other side of the sloop, Pintel and Ragetti squinted back, unused to sunlight after so many months shut away.

"This is not a good idea," Macey warned under his breath. Corwin inclined his head slightly and granted the younger officer that point. Not that it mattered; he needed a crew that could blend in seamlessly with pirates, and most of Anamaria's bunch aboard the _Black Pearl _were far too recognizable.

That had left him with an unusual set of options...

"What do you think of the offer, lads?" Corwin asked as genially as he could. He and Anamaria had both agreed to set off as quickly as they could, and if Pintel and Ragetti intended to hold them up, well - all the better to chuck them overboard and pull a few sailors from the _Dauntless. _Certainly a few of them were scruffy enough to fit in at Noble Bay.

Ragetti chewed on his fingernails, and Pintel gave Corwin a fairly solid stare. "You sayin' we help you here... do what ye want... and we don't have to go back in that cell?"

"If you're good boys," he said mildly. "That means following orders."

"We can do that," Ragetti said around his fingernails.

"'Tis a disgusting habit ye'ave there," Anamaria said. Ragetti immediately ceased the chewing.

"And ye won't be killing us," Pintel continued.

Corwin nodded. "Nor will you go dashing off to join Gerrarrd and his crew... you are indebted to _me_, lads. Your life will be forfeit if you turn against me."

Of course, he had no idea whether or not the threats would actually _work_; Pintel and Ragetti were pirates, no more and no less - and pirates typically held loyalty to themselves only. Still, he liked to think he had them cowed.

Both men paled considerably when he mentioned Gerrarrd. "We wouldn't want to be doing that," Pintel said. "Gerrarrd's not... _pleasant._"

Maybe it was _Gerrarrd _who had them cowed. Oh, well. As long as they followed orders. "We're in agreement, then?"

"Aye," they said, and by the looks on their faces, they were questioning whether it was a good idea as much as he was.

Nonetheless, Corwin had a mission. He turned to Macey. "You'll look after things?"

Macey saluted smartly. "Good luck, Commodore." His tone said _you'll need it. _

He disembarked from the ship, and Corwin set about conferring with Anamaria and overseeing the loading of stores. With any luck, they'd sail before the sun set.

"Do you suppose we're sailing into a trap?" he asked Anamaria as she oversaw Pintel and Ragetti as they loaded supplies.

She gave him a little shrug, but he didn't miss the tense set of her shoulders as she turned around. "It wouldn't surprise me, Commodore. It wouldn't surprise me."


	28. Plain Bad Luck

_Since our last update, I have...a) presented the thesis, b) graduated, and c) found a job. And man, props to those folks who can still maintain a high wordcount while doing all that, because I'm sure finding it tough._

_But here it is, a__nd here we are! Things have hopefully settled down enough for me to continue this story to its finale...and maybe look beyond...we'll have to see._

_**Plain Bad Luck**_

_Interlude -- County Kent_

"What's in there?" Elizabeth asked as she urged Dirce across a creek.

Jack kept turning it over in his hands as though he didn't quite believe he'd managed to capture it. "Nothing of particular value to anyone," he said, sliding a finger beneath a worn seam and opening it. "And yet it's the most valuable thing we could possibly have unearthed."

"That's very good to hear," she said, noting with some concern that Dirce flattened her ears at the running water. "But _what is it_?"

He pulled part of the cover aside, and she caught a flash of something blue before he tucked it back together. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about," he said. "Let's just get the nightmare moving again, shall we?"

_Tortuga_

The _Helene _sailed into Tortuga as the sun at last returned to its watery bed, and Will Turner stood at the forward railing, watching the little port town as it glowed.

_Maybe even its light is stolen. _Such a place of vice scarcely deserved to look as cheerful as it did, its run-down buildings illuminated by strings of lanterns and flanked by the colorfully-dressed ladies of the evening. Will let his gaze linger over a few of them as _Helene _tied up at the pier, the crew bringing her back to hand under Dugald's sharp supervision.

_Gerrarrd's spy or not, I'd never have gotten here without him. _Will lacked a physically imposing presence to bully the crew with _and _the technical expertise to tell them what to do. That made Dugald quite literally worth his weight in gold, much as Will was loathe to admit it. _All the better to get Father communicative again..._he _can tell me what to say. _

At the moment, the odds of that happening looked very poor indeed, as Bootstrap was standing in the boat the crew was trying to rig up for lowering, orating what he seemed to think was a very important speech. Will couldn't entirely make out what his father was trying to _say_; he thought it might involve Davy Jones and a secret garden and perhaps flying shoes. Every third word might well have been another language..._oh, father._

The crew glanced up at him now and then with tightened expressions, but for the most part they went about their business. Bootstrap's eccentricities had manifested practically the day they sailed out of Noble Bay, so they'd had plenty of time to get used to them. Maybe the ocean just brought out the worst in him.

For the most part, Will just ignored it.

And now he was here -- Tortuga. What had Jack called it? A petroliferous banquet? He'd described the place so very casually, and then led Will off in search of Joshamee Gibbs with the same self-serving confidence that had made him a legend in the Caribbean. Will had never quite felt entirely _safe _under the pirate's care, but realized in hindsight that Jack would not have let him come to harm.

Not while he was still of use, anyway.

_"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs..." _Bootstrap yowled from the boat.

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. _I don't know what you've gotten up to, Jack, but I almost wish you were here now._

It was a mistake. Had to be.

Weeks after sending Joshamee Gibbs across the Atlantic to track down Sparrow and Elizabeth, Corwin Norrington stood in front of Weatherby Swann's personal physician and tried to keep his mouth from falling open. The man had come aboard the _Relentless, _having shipped out with Macey apparently not more than a fortnight before to chase _Torrential _down at her hidden island. "Are you _certain_?"

"Quite certain, Commodore. His symptoms are unmistakable; I'm just shocked that no one called me in sooner." The man coughed into a pristine white handkerchief, and Corwin eyed it suspiciously. _We didn't call _you _in because _you _are probably more diseased than the doxies..._but he kept that thought to himself as the physician continued: "I will do all I can for him, of course, but..."

"But? There's a _but_?" Corwin spotted Soledad moving toward him out of the corner of his eye, and also sensed the physician's attention focusing on her. "Doctor, if you please--"

"His condition is not something I care to see in a man of his age, sir. It makes the case more complicated. A younger, stronger person--"

"The Governor is a fit man, Doctor."

The physician gave him a skeptical look, and then transferred his attention completely to Soledad. She returned his look frankly, but then surrepitiously ignored him as she spoke to Corwin: "The _Torrential _is ready to sail."

"Finally." He'd much rather have voyaged off into the sunset without learning of this ill news. It was one more thing to weigh on him during the voyage to Noble Bay -- one more reason for Gibbs to sail for England faster, ever-faster.

He supposed it couldn't be helped; they'd stopped in a little-known cove to give _Torrential _a new paint job and stock up on more firepower than she'd been designed to carry. She was still nothing compared to his lovely _Relentless_, but he supposed _Torrential _in her own right was a fairly dashing little ship.

And then there was the case of hiding the _Black Pearl..._an activity he had no wish to repeat anytime soon.

"Hello, Miss...?" the doctor bowed deeply, and Soledad regarded him as though he were a leech.

"_Captain_ Soledad," she said. "Let's go, Commodore."

"Yes, of course." He turned once more to the physician, and resisted the urge to grab the man by his lapels and drag him forward. "You will treat the Governor with the utmost respect and care and he _will _be alive when I get back."

"Sir," the doctor said, and coughed again.

Corwin ground his teeth and headed for the _Torrential_, Soledad at his side. They'd barely gotten out of earshot of the doctor before his companion's curiosity got the better of her. "Somethin' wrong with the gov?"

"It appears he has consumption," he said. There was not much use in hiding the fact; it'd be all over the island soon enough. Soledad did pause slightly, falling a step behind him as she took in this new information. "According to this chap, anyway."

She quickly caught up to him. "Ye did say he was sick."

"I did, didn't I? I wonder how long this has been festering in him. Weeks? Months? He was caughing after Elizabeth left. Maybe..." His hand clenched into a fist, and suddenly Soledad was grasping his arm.

"We be left to our own destinies, Commodore. Swann's no more your responsibility than I am."

"I should have insisted he see a physician earlier," he said. "He's always been very good to me, almost a second father..." Well, maybe not a father. Perhaps an eccentric uncle. Or a kindly benefactor. Or... "And if he can't control Port Royal..."

"Port Royal is controlled as ev'to me, Corwin." She guided him down the gangway to the _Torrential_, and he distantly admired the sleek black paint that now graced her hull. "I've a notion we'll not be gone long enough to note a difference as it is."

"I hope you're right." He spied the tip of _Relentless_'s mainmast from the edge of his peripheral vision. Macey's apparent lack of hesitation in taking the ship after him was somewhat of a concern; at this point in time, Port Royal needed a steady hand at the helm -- not an overexcited sailor ready to jump into battle at the slightest sign of trouble.

Soledad followed his line of sight. "Th'_Dauntless _is still there, is she not? Besides, all of Gerrarrd's men are gathering a'Noble. They'll not have th'inclination to attack...at least, shouldn't."

_Anamaria, you have a way of making the bad look potentially worse. _Even so, he nodded and stepped aboard his little ship, nearly stumbling over a ragged bundle of clothing in the process. "Ragetti, _what _are you doing down there?"

"Sorry, Commodore," Ragetti's voice was muffled. "Dropped me eye."

"Mayhaps we ought to nail it into your head," Anamaria said. She picked up a suspicious-looking wooden ball and held it out. "This what ye seek, pirate?"

Ragetti grabbed the eye and straightened up, backing away with muted little bows. "Thank ye Captain, Commodore, thank ye muches..."

"If there's still equipment lying around, then stow it," Corwin barked. "We head for Noble Bay."

The crew -- mostly an odd mix of _Black Pearl_'s officers and a few hand-me-downs from _Relentless_ -- snapped into action. After watching for a moment to make sure that Pintel and Ragetti were making themselves useful -- _odd, they do seem to be fairly seasoned hands -- _Corwin turned to Anamaria. "I suppose I should relinquish command to you, Captain, seeing that you know how to get there."

"Don't let it hurt too bad, Commodore. 'Tis merely temporary." But even so, Anamaria grinned broadly as she addressed the rest of the crew: "C'mon, ye dribblin' animals! Move yer sorry legs!"

Much as he was loathe to admit it, the _Torrential _blew out of the cove far quicker than he would have expected. "You do well," he said grudgingly. "Very well."

Anamaria gave him a smug grin. "'Tis all about motivation, Corwin. All about motivation."

_Dennot_

The Kendricks were back in town.

For almost everyone, this meant very little. For Quinton and Constance Cade, it meant the frequent sound of stomping and crashing from the room rented out by the peculiar young couple nearly every single night. At first, it had sounded like an argument -- raised voices, marching across floors. Then it escalated to near violence -- and then --

"What _are _they doing?" their latest guest asked. Her light eyes tracked the footsteps as they ran across the ceiling, and a muted curse drifted down.

"Quinton thinks they're fighting," Constance said. She accepted the woman's payment and provided her with a key. "_I _think, well, they're young and in love."

Both of them flinched as something landed on the floor with a particularly heavy _thud_. The woman pulled her cloak more snugly over her, and Constance did not miss the sword hilt protruding from it. "That's quite deeply in love, if you ask me."

Constance shrugged. "We were all young once." She'd gotten quite used to her odd boarders and their quirks; the man and his young wife were always polite and friendly to her, and so long as they didn't wake anyone, she hardly cared what they did. "Where do you hail from, miss?"

"Oh, I've been wandering 'round County Kent for awhile," the woman said, taking her key and moving off toward the stairs. "Nothing much beyond that..."

The blade sheared through her stick and embedded itself in the wall. Elizabeth glared dully at her broken "weapon" as the top part clunked to the floor, and then looked at her erstwhile teacher in annoyance. "Well, that's the last one. And look what you've done to the trim."

Jack tugged his sword free and eyed the chink in the paneling. "Well, that's unfortunate...we'll just say it was here already."

She pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from chuckling. Their bouts ranged from humorous to outright vicious, but they'd never gone so far as to destroy property before. Elizabeth supposed their was a first time for everything. "What the Cades must think of us."

"As long as we keep paying our dues, they'll not think of us too harshly," he said, sheathing his sword. "I suppose we'll have to find something else for you to practice with."

"Such as a real sword?" She purposely kept the hope out of her voice. It would not do to appear _too _eager.

Jack scoffed. "You're not ready for that yet."

"But when _will _I be ready?"

"When I say you are." He set the sheathed weapon against the wall it had so recently injured and crossed the floor to look out the window. "Besides, if you worry about what the Cades think of us _now_, what will they say if they hear the crashing of blades up above?"

He had a point. The Cades and their fellow guests were certainly quite tolerant of what must be a great racket coming from the Kendrick room between the hours of five and seven, but steel on steel might push that tolerance. Elizabeth nodded curtly and tugged off the cheaply-made bracers that Jack made her wear when they practiced. He'd never really _gotten _her one way or another, but she supposed her wrists had come into a few close calls as they practiced. She set them aside and surveyed the meager contents of the pantry. _Bugger. Bread...not much else..._"I'm going to go find us supper."

Jack reached for his coat. Elizabeth started to protest, but then realized the better of it: with all of the soldiers and Sheerness spilloff prowling about, the streets were barely safe during the day, much less by nightfall. "You'd think it would be safer," she complained, buttoning up her cloak. "If Norrington saw the state of this place--"

"Norrington runs the Caribbean fleet, not the Dennot constables," Jack said. "Do you suppose Howard still has his cheeses?"

"I don't know how good they are," she said as they descended the stairs. The sight of Constance Cade's round figure disappearing into the kitchen as they reached the ground level gave her pause; theoretically, she could request a few items to tide them over, and Constance could simply attach it to the tab.

_No...we should go out tonight. _She let Jack hold the door open and slipped out into the dusk, pulling the cloak closer around her shoulders. Fog had descended on Dennot as the sun went down, and it made for a strange carpet that covered her shoes and moved up to her waist. The Cade house quickly vanished behind them, swallowed by the murk and the dark.

Jack took a breath of air and promptly made a face. "Not a good evening for walking."

"Howard's likely gone home by now," she said. The pock-faced little man rarely stayed out beyond the late afternoon hours, and foul weather would only drive him away faster. _But what are we going to eat? _"There's a tavern not far, though."

"The Cup & Arrow?" At her nod, Jack made another face. "They water down the rum."

"Everyone waters down the rum."

"But he _really _waters it down. I didn't come to England to drink _grog_—" With one smooth motion, Jack shoved her aside and whirled around, a glint of silver in his hand. Elizabeth barely had time to gawk before something dark and blurry swished into view accompanied by the ring of metal cutting through air—

He caught the edge of the blade against the flat of the kitchen knife, and the utensil flew out of his hand with the impact. Elizabeth immediately reached for a stick that she quickly realized was not around, and instead stepped out of the way. Like it or not, Jack was much better at this sort of thing than she was.

Jack and the cloaked figure circled each other. "Good morrow to you," he said, dipping into an exaggerated bow. "And to what do I owe the displeasure of your company?"

The figure didn't answer, and just darted at him again. Jack quickly stepped around the first blow and caught the sleeve, yanking the cloak up and then back. Thus caught, the figure slashed at the air before twisting free and lurching toward Elizabeth.

She reached out to grab the arm and stay the blow--

A cutlass suddenly interspersed itself between her vision and the dropping blade, and she barely made out a swatch of dark hair and a familiar voice: "I'd not be doing that, if I were you. S'not nice to pick on young ladies."

Two on one was bad enough. Three on one was apparently unacceptable odds. The cloaked man? woman? _thing_? sprinted away, leaving Elizabeth to stare after it. "Now what do you suppose that was?"

"Trouble," Jack said darkly. He turned to their would-be rescuer, and Elizabeth got a good look at the man for the first time:

"Mr. _Gibbs_?"

He was almost unrecognizable beneath a veritable film of dirt, grease, and facial hair, but it was indeed Joshamee Gibbs. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and gave her a little nod. "Miss Elizabeth," he said. "Captain."

"Gibbs." Jack returned the nod, seemingly nonplussed by his second mate's rather shocked appraisal. "I imagine you're not just dropping by for tea and crumpets?"

"No, Jack. Things've –" His hesitation only served to heighten Elizabeth's nerves. "Norrington sent me."

_Norrington – willingly associated with – _Elizabeth could barely process the thought. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her. "_Norrington_ sent you here?"

"Aye. Things back there – they're not good. Could even say they're getting worse."

Jack appraised Gibbs rather unhappily. "It's a good bet Gerrarrd knows we're here, then," he said, and looked ruefully at Elizabeth. "That's the last time you choose where we get to eat."

_TBC…_

_Yo dudes, 'sup?_

_Response to Arryn & co -- _

_A very enlightening series of reviews left -- thank you. Obviously you either saw something in the story that you liked in order to keep going for so far or you were just really bored...but my response to the majority of the information is...it's a fic that takes place in a universe where zombie sailors were just recently running around. I could've made it all very technical and scientifically correct, but I didn't. Why? That's not the point of this fic. It's fantasy. Amusement. A flight of whimsy. OK? OK. _

_re: Gerrarrd's teeth. Having been in braces and various other orthodontia for six years of my life, I am quite aware of various maladies that teeth can suffer, thanks. However, it seems that most villains have lousy teeth (it's our signal to dislike them) and I wanted Gerrarrd to have a decent set of chompers. Again with the flight of fantasy and operating in a universe where zombie pirates prowl the high seas. _

_On that note! I realize in the last chapter Elizabeth should've used the hilt of the sword instead of the butt, but I was originally writing it as a gun…and then realized Jack wouldn't want her to have a gun, because, hello, mood swing. ;) _

_**other stuff: **_

_**Lily – **No, I wasn't thinking of Hermione Granger when I wrote out this little lady…I just liked the name. _

_**pirateobsessed - **I started writing this before the DVD came out and had no idea about James and Groves. Unfortunately, our host website doesn't allow us to edit the files once they've been uploaded anymore, so I have no way of going back in there and "ret-conning" the proper names in. So...hope they don't bother you too much. :) One of these days I might write a little scene where he reveals that James is his real name but he goes by Corwin because… (insert explanation here.) _

_To the rest – _

_Thank you for reading!_

_I'd like to get this thing wrapped up before theDead Man's Chestcomes out…we'll see how that goes. I suppose I've got to write up the obligatory slam-bangin' action sequence before it's done, right?_

_I do want to address everyone individually but I also am running on a deadline (ew on the real world) and do want to get this posted. So here it is._


	29. Dead Man's Vest

_We probably won't finish this before the movie. But hey, here's another chapter! _

_**Dead Man's Vest**_

"A meeting of minds, you say." The grizzled privateer stared at Will over the top of his mug. "They said you talked fancy, but I never quite believed it."

Will shrugged. "I've discovered it's useless trying to talk down to people. They only resent it in the end." Captain Voronski was his last attempt at recruiting from within the ranks of Tortuga; most pirates just laughed him off before he could even get to Gerrarrd's terms. Out of the fiftyodd men he'd interviewed, only two had so much as expressed interest in relocating to Noble Bay, and they might have just been humoring him for amusement.

Gerrarrd was going to stick his head on a pike when Will got back, but at least then he'd be out of Tortuga.

Voronski, though, leaned forward. "What's in it for me?"

"If you join forces with Gerrarrd, you'll no longer be a lone wolf on the seas," he said, mentally running though the checklist of convincing arguments that Gerrarrd had sent off with him. "You'll be a captain in a _navy_, with a land behind you. A land, and brothers. Beyond what you may have...here." He couldn't quite keep the distaste out of his voice. At this point in the game, he really no longer cared.

"Why do I want a land?" Voronski asked. Will glanced down at the table, and then beyond it. _It shouldn't be that damned difficult to recruit a _pirate, he thought, and nodded slightly to the tarnished hook that rested where Voronski's left hand should have been.

"How'd you lose that?"

Voronski glanced at the hook and drew it back toward him ever so slightly. Will recognized the motion: his own father made it when he wanted to be ignored. Whatever the story behind the apparatus was, Voronski preferred not to discuss it. All he said was, "Norrington."

_Norrington. _"Gerrarrd's not too fond of him," Will said casually. "He means to target Port Royal once he's gathered a large enough fleet."

Voronski scoffed. "If you think I' liable to switch sides just for _revenge_--"

"Not at all," Will said, signaling to a particularly buxom bar wench for more ale. "It's not about switching sides. You have no side. You want to sail the seas and do as you wish. But--I'll take that," he said, relieving the wench of her jug. He poured the ale into the mugs. "--but what happens when Gerrarrd's fleet _does _grow large, and simply expands? The _Felicia _is a fine ship...but there are many other fine ships in the Caribbean."

Voronski held onto his mug, but did not say anything.

Will reached into his pocket and tugged a bar of gold out, dropping it onto the table with a muted clank. Voronski immediately reached for it, only to find his hook stayed by Will's hand. "There's something for everyone with Gerrarrd," he said. Whether or not he sounded convincing remained up in the air. "Gold, jewels, security, protection if you want it...revenge..." He shrugged and left the gold bar on the table as he rose. He tossed a few coins onto the table -- one would pay off the ale and the meal handsomely, but the rest were just for show. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Captain."

He turned to go. Gerrarrd had made sure he was well-equipped, but he was personally quite amazed he'd gotten this far at all.

A thick hand clamped down on his wrist. Will turned around slowly to look at Voronski, who had curved his hook over the bar of gold. "Tell me, Captain Turner," he said, "just where _is _this Noble Bay?"

-----------------------------

In the end, they borrowed wine and cheese from Constance and took their meal in the darkness of the boarding room, curtains drawn, a single candle lighting the place. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought they were preparing for a séance.

"I wish we could offer you a more fitting meal," Elizabeth said, slicing up the cheese and arranging it on a platter around their lone loaf of bread. "We were going out to fetch something before we found you."

"Oh, trust me, Miss Elizabeth, this is better than shipboard fare. Th' best food I've had in weeks, I daresay." And he did attack the food. Elizabeth shifted in her chair, eager to ask questions, but Jack shook his head slightly at her.

"'Tis cruel to make a man talk on an empty stomach," he said. "Gibbs, have some wine. Good vintage." He poured the wine into their lone chipped flute, and Gibbs eagerly downed it. "Though I imagine nothing good could have driven him back across the Atlantic..."

He looked up, his wide eyes sunken into his head. _Hard voyage, _Elizabeth thought. "Bad news, Captain. Even -- dreadful news."

Jack shoved the platter down the table. "Eat up, Gibbs," he said. "Dreadful news is best delivered on a full stomach."

Gibbs took a deep breath and pushed the platter away. "Gerrarrd's making his move," he said. "Ships are falling all over th' Caribbean...most of them faster than th' Commodore can track."

Jack appeared to consider his words. Elizabeth leaned forward. "Norrington sent you?"

"Aye." Gibbs snatched a hunk of cheese and nibbled on it. "Said if I didn't find ye, it'd be my head. I'm to bring you back while he and Captain Soledad--"

"_Captain Soledad?_" Jack sounded downright offended.

"--aye, she's commanded the _Pearl _during your...vacation."

"And is the _Pearl _still _afloat?_"

"Oh, aye, aside from that one spat w'Gerrarrd, a few holes here, a torn sail there..." Jack's expression grew blacker and blacker, and Elizabeth lay a warning hand on his arm.

"How is my father?"

"He seemed to be in decent health, if not spirits."

"And Will?"

Gibbs's eyes flickered to her, and then to Jack. "Nothing's been heard of Will Turner since Gerrarrd took the lot of ye," he said.

Elizabeth looked away quickly and blinked back tears. Will -- oh, _Will _-- the boy she should have loved. The boy she _had _loved, in her own way -- fallen to Gerrarrd as she escaped with Jack Sparrow. _Will... _"The Commodore must've gotten my letter," she said.

"Aye. We wrenched somethin' of an answer from Dirce, but ye very well vanished after that." Gibbs shoved a fistful of bread into his mouth and chewed loudly. "It took Anamaria and the Commodore a long time to figure out what was going on...some thought you were dead. Until he got tha' letter from you. Then I realized why ye'd come back here, what ye'd come for..."

"Innocent maidens hear all," Jack said. Gibbs snapped his mouth shut.

"Of course, sir. Sorry, sir. But thing is, sir -- you need to come back."

"So it would seem."

Both of them looked at her. Elizabeth sighed, and then stood up. "I'll leave you two gentlemen to your scheming, then," she said. "I'll just...sleep."

-----------------------------------------

Ah, Noble Bay.

It was hardly as nightmare inducing as he'd feared; actually, it was quite a pleasant cove, with a large beach, expansive docking network, and a steadily growing town right on its shore.

It also boasted a flotilla of vessels – some of which he recognized as ships who had outrun _Dauntless _time and again – some of which were more myth than reality.

But such was the way of piracy.

The sheer number of vessels was the most troubling aspect of the entire thing; Corwin counted upwards of thirty already at rest in and around the harbor itself, with even more anchored around the island.

He sensed Anamaria Soledad coming up beside him, and a shuffling set of feet paired with heavier stomps indicated the arrival of Pintel and Ragetti.

Anamaria whistled quietly upon seeing the mass of ships. "Now that's a sight," she murmured, shading her eyes for a better look.

"I suppose now we know why there's been so few reports of piracy," he said. "They've all been _here_."

Anamaria grabbed Ragetti by his collar. "Boyo," she said, "how long they been a-working this?"

"Dunno," Ragetti squeaked. He looked to Corwin for help. "I _don't_!"

"We don't, sir," Pintel said. "We was _cursed_…too cursed for Gerrarrd."

"Barbossa must have said _something _about him."

"Must he?" Pintel scrunched up his nose. "'Twas no concern of ours, Commodore. We went our own way, sure as the wind blows. Gerrarrd mostly steered clear o'us…after…"

"Commodore." Anamaria pointed at the sleek black vessel that approached.

Corwin drew himself up. "She's too big to be a sentry ship."

"'Course she be," Pintel said. "That be _Wickedry_."

"Are you sure?" Anamaria asked, though she sounded like she already knew the answer and didn't like it.

"I know that topline," Corwin muttered. "Anamaria, bring her in. It's probably best I'm not seen."

She nodded, and he turned to go back to his quarters. He'd never seen Gerrarrd or any of his cronies face-to-face – at least, not to his knowledge – but with a spy in their midst he couldn't be too careful.

He took a seat by the porthole, pistol at the ready, and waited.

------------------------------------------

"Greetings, _Torrential_!"

The jovial shout from _Wickedry _earned nothing more than a tight smile from Anamaria as she clamped her hands around her mouth. "Greetings t'ye, _Wickedry_," she called, taking care to flatten out her accent in case anyone she knew was aboard. "We be coming at the request o'Captain Gerrarrd!"

"So ye say. And who commands the _Torrential_?"

"I do." She glanced at Pintel and Ragetti, both of whom looked back at her with the slightly concerned expressions they'd worn since getting hauled aboard this tub. If she gave them her _name_—

"So many _names _in the deep blue sea," Ragetti said. "So many names for so few, 'tis the truth."

Oddly enough, the scrawny little fool was right. "Soledad," she called across the channel formed by the two ships. "Gerrarrd's made a convincin' enough bargain for me to hear him out."

"Then we bid you welcome!" _Wickedry _altered course and headed out toward the anchored ships, and Anamaria wondered if the vessel had intended that all along – perhaps _Torrential _was merely passing by.

She shaded her eyes again. _So many ships… _"Where d'ya suppose we should settle in?"

Pintel pointed at a blank patch of ocean. "There. No rocks, good tailwind. Iffin' we need it," he added.

"Nothing wrong with a daring escape." She turned back to her vessel and felt the knot in her stomach ease slightly. The first step was the hardest; now all they had to do was blend in with hundreds of other pirates once they reached the shore. "Tell the C'dore to put on his disguise," she said. "We're nearly ready."

-----------------------------------------

After several minutes of pressing her ear against the door only to hear the muted voices of total secrecy, Elizabeth gave up on eavesdropping and crept into bed.

She was still lying there when the door opened hours later, and the soft scrape of Jack's boots alerted her to his presence. She sat up in bed and he sat beside her, barely a silhouette in the darkness. "What have you decided?"

"There's a ship leaving for the Caribbean the day after tomorrow," he said, his voice soft. He did not sound entirely happy about the prospect. "Considering what we ran into tonight, I think it best if we are aboard."

"Of course," she said. Then, "I'd like to say goodbye to Hermione and Constance."

She thought perhaps he smiled. "I suppose that can be arranged."

"Not arranged, Jack, _assured._" She pulled the thin cover around her shoulders. "They're my – my _friends._" Weak friends, perhaps – vague friends – but when had she ever had true fremale friends? "All my life I've only had Will to talk to. Hermione, at least – and where is Gibbs going to sleep?"

"The Cades have an empty room," he said, ignoring the change in subject. Then, after a pause, "Are you all right?"

_Am I? It's difficult to say. _For months, her entire existence had based around when she would go home to father. To Will. To the Caribbean.

But now…

Now, faced with the _reality…_

"I knew I would go home one day," she said. "Just..."

"Not this soon?"

"You know me well."

"Well, I've lived with you long enough...Mrs. Kendrick."

She laughed, and rested a head against his shoulder. "I don't even like England all that much, Mr. Kendrick," she said. "Although your presence has made it infinitely more tolerable…from time to time."

His arm came around her then, and his chin rested atop her head. For a brief instant she wondered if he might tilt her chin up to kiss her – _just once, just once more, after all this time – _and his fingers did brush across her face.

But there was no kiss, just as this was not her reality. This was a surreal and ongoing dream – a dream she'd been fortunate enough to experience – but not to keep…he was not hers, and she was not his.

Perhaps in a different place, in a different _life…_

But not here.

Not here.

"Just think," Jack whispered, "now the world will never know of Captain Dory…"

"Thank God," she said, and hugged him.

He was still Jack.

For now, that was enough.

------------------------------------------

He left Elizabeth sleeping on the bed she'd once declined to share with him, and left the Cade house with Joshamee Gibbs.

"In there for a long time, you were," Gibbs said as they shut the door. "Grown fond o'er?"

"She's a good woman," Jack said.

"Aye, that she is, and you've lived with 'er now – how long? Since last we met?" Gibbs took a deep breath of the chill night air. "Plenty o'time to—"

"We've come to discuss the disquieting information you provided to me earlier," he said sharply, "_not _speculate on my relationship with Mrs. Ken—Miss Swann. Now talk."

Gibbs chuckled thinly. Dennot was deserted by now, and Jack stood with his second mate beneath the relative shelter of the armory next door. "You mean the Turner situation. Hearsay, most of it."

"What _have _you heard of him?"

"There's some talk of Gerrarrd taken on a young acolyte o'sorts," Gibbs remarked. "A man of dark hair and dark eyes, fair complec'tioned and handsome. Timing's about right."

"Turner as an acolyte?" Jack frowned. "That doesn't make sense. He despises pirates. Except me."

"I only say what I've heard, Captain--Mr. Kendrick." Gibbs still did not appear comfortable with the new title. "Maybe it's not Will of Port Royal. Though I always thought the lad ha' a bit of a streak in him."

"There is that." What could possibly drive Will to join forces with Gerrarrd? "He must have told him something – that he's holding Lady Liz for ransom, or knows where she is, or…"

"Aye, it must be that," Gibbs agreed. "Didn't think he had a piratin' bone in his body."

The very idea of Will Turner as a pirate was amusing – but then again, the idea of _Commodore _Norrington working with _Anamaria Soledad _had once been amusing too – and according to Gibbs, that little chuckle had come true. Dead men walked among the living, Norrington and Soledad made a fine team, and Will Turner might have crossed the line into piracy.

What a strange place the world had become.

He reached up to touch the top of the awning. "If Turner has turned pirate...he's going to make life a bit more difficult for all of us."

"Aye," Gibbs said. "If we're not too late already."

"Too late? We're _never _'too late,' Gibbs, and do you know why?"

"I couldn't imagine."

He leaned forward and flashed his old smile. "Because I'm _Mr. _Jack Kendrick!"

----------------------------

_TBC…_


End file.
